


Life of a Tool

by markofthemoros



Series: Tool [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Finding Peace, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Moving On, Porn with Feelings, Post-Game(s), Series, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-01-31 06:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markofthemoros/pseuds/markofthemoros
Summary: "It was like a cancer. Slowly seeping into every single cell of his body, it had left him a shadow. A living ghost peering out into the new light, but seeing only ashes and umbra. Ten months, eleven days." After the events of the game, Prompto being Prompto, the blond is left to blame himself for Noct's fate. Part 3 of my Tool series, but can be read as a stand-alone story as well. Spoilers. Some PromxCindy. One-sided Promtis if you squint. Like, a lot. Drama-driven, porn with feelings. No archive warnings 'cause they'd spoil, I think.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bagpipes5k2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bagpipes5k2/gifts).



> Spoiler warning: Spoils the entire ending, so please note that if you haven't finished the game. Possible spoilers starting here.
> 
> AN: Hi guys! Firstly, welcome to the last part of my Tool trilogy. And if you haven't read the first two parts, DON'T PANIC. Life of a Tool is a part of my Tool series, but can be read separately as a stand-alone story. However, I do take some liberties here. Life assumes that the whole of Noctis' posse survived the day of the new sunrise, but Noctis himself still didn't. It focuses on Prompto's life approximately 11 months after the events of the game's ending. And it's not gonna be a joy ride, I promise you that.
> 
> A fair warning, the first half of this chapter is just plain porn (PromptoxCindy), lol. If you don't wanna read it for any reason, you can skip to the first dash indicating a scene change. The real drama begins there.
> 
> The song I have to go with this is "45" by Shinedown. I have marked where to start listening. And, thank you for reading all this wall of text. Now onto the story! I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Beta read by Elillierose and Bagpipes5K2

Chapter 1

Sometimes Cindy wondered if she was doing the right thing. It wasn't as much the 'why' as it was the 'what' that came from it. Thinking about the familiar lopsided grin, the dimmed sky eyes that still reflected the starlight but had lost their own shine… Prompto. Oh, the sweet thing. Sometimes she wondered if what they had was the poison or the balm.

This wasn't one of those times, though.

Not when the blond made such beautiful sounds beneath her.

"Ahn… ah," she cherished the heat rising from the raspily gasping body as she rolled her hips against his with more intensity, more fervor. She could feel his movements inside, the tantalizing rubbing against her walls, sending waves of want up her spine. Expert hands teased his loins, the sensitive skin just below the hip as she let them dance, felt his shivers through his thighs, low sounds of pleasure leaving as the blond head was leaned back in bliss.

"A-aah…" Prompto's eyes cracked open to gaze up at the sight above him. Cindy's slender body arched in euphoria, her chin tilted towards the ceiling as ribbons of deep, moany sighs fell from those plump lips. Her breasts bounced rhythmically over the toned stomach as she drove herself onto him, her grinds greedy and consuming, owning him.

Cindy glanced down as a firm hand snaked itself around her waist, a spark of raw lust igniting in the olive eyes at the wordless promise. He had sat up; holding her possessively in place, Prompto showed her just how much he knew how to please her. Shifting his hips slightly to change the angle, his grip on her hip tightened as he began ramming her down on himself harder, her sighs becoming hitched as he pounded into her with aroused hunger. Trickster lips were teasing the hard nipple presented for him whereas his free hand slid up her curves to caress the other. All the while, he thrusted up into her tightness, building up a relentless rhythm that had the woman crying out as the tension in her stomach rose, teasing, maddening, enticing.

A sinister, self-satisfied chuckle was her only warning. Cindy let out a surprised little yelp as Prompto, in one powerful shove shifted her off him, pushed her into the mattress, and climbed on top of her. Grinning down mischievously, but eyes shining with affection, the man grabbed hold of her right wrist, pinning the arm above her head. Reading the lecherous twinkle in the gaze, the action left her shivering with excitement at the sudden change of pace, but her pulse just about skyrocketed when the gunner leaned in to murmur in her ear seductively, "My turn.",

She gasped audibly; the small words, for them, translated into, 'scream for me'. "Well now. By all means," she chuckled a bit breathlessly. Prompto returned the tone, the sheer proximity of it sending those vibrations running along her spine again as the fingers brushed her bud, first like a feather, then determinately, purposefully. She could feel the satisfied smirk against her neck when he felt her wetness, could imagine the look, and the thought only worked to arouse her more. Effectively pinning her down with his weight, Prompto listened for each wanton sound, each gasp, every moan as his fingers swirled, every sound going straight into his groin as the woman unraveled beneath him.

Her eyelids slid closed as her eyes rolled to the back of her head at the feel of the fingers wreaking havoc on her nerve ends. Merciless in his administrations, Prompto worked her relentlessly, single-minded and goal-driven as she felt the heat rising up her body. She had lost control of her mouth long ago; her moans were ecstatic and unfiltered, breathless as Prompto forced the sensations upon her, drowning her in bliss and driving her to the edge. His suave mouth nibbled just the right spot behind her ear gently, and the voice was mesmerized and husky, "Come for me, Cin. Enjoy it." And the lips were back, hot and sensual, and the pleasure was blinding her and _oh god yes…!_

Stellar ecstasy washed her mind white as she exploded. Her flushed body arched against his as waves and waves of pleasure assaulted her senses. Her throat quivered under the strain, unintelligent sounds of completion pouring out in strings. From the midst of it, Prompto made out his name, the sound of it making his cock twitch, a bead of pre-cum slipping out, and he had to will himself to come back from the path she had sent him down. Planting butterfly kisses onto the moisture-sheened temple, he whispered sweet nothings into her hair as he felt her relax. But already, as she came down from her private heaven, her breaths came out as excited and craving. He held back the chuckle that teased his own throat; he loved how she was never satisfied with just one. If anything, it left her hungry for more.

Panting lightly, Cindy cracked her crystalline eyes open. "Huh, golly… wow," she uttered, the spark in the orbs sending a spur down his legs.

"Oh, we're not done here, baby," was whispered into her ear, the words emphasized by a few deliberate brushes over her clit. Hyper-sensitive as she was, the mere caress was enough to make fire course through her veins again as she squirmed under the touch. Shivering with delight, she gave him her answer in a heated gaze.

"Darn right."

Grinning a little, he planted one more kiss into her hair before untangling his hands. On his knees between her legs, he ran long fingers down her chest, her belly, lingered teasingly around her need before tracing the thigh and raising upwards. Bringing one leg over his shoulder, he laid soft kisses along the knee before positioning himself. Despite just coming, Cindy purred deliciously at the feel of his manhood ghosting over her entrance – and pushing in.

Her moist warmth enclosed around him from all sides, inviting and ready. "Oh shit, Cin…" he hissed, the rest of it fading under an unintelligent grunt of pleasure as he felt her muscles hugging him more tightly. A soft chuckle snapped something inside him; gripping her hips, he thrust into her, the chuckle hitching. Never allowing her to recompose herself, a cunning look crossed over Prompto's face as he started to build up his pace. A torturous rhythm, not quite enough to be satisfying for either of them but he kept it up, smirking when she squirmed and bucked her hips in demand for more. Chuckling quietly at her impatience, he forced himself to go slow, _so_ _slow_ , just to draw out a frustrated moan as she was pulled under the sensations but not allowed the gratification. Then, without a warning, in one powerful motion, he drove himself all the way inside, eliciting a cry of pure fulfilment before he again returned to the drawn-out tempo of his hips, shivering a little at the tremors coursing through her.

"Ah-aah… Pr-omp-toh..." It was maddening. Cindy's breaths came in fervid pants as the friction teased her, never quite there, but never allowing her an escape from the tender torment, either. Her entire body again quivered with the delicious tingles of arousal; she could feel her own wetness, trailing down her cheeks. And the way the blond was moving inside her, intentionally avoiding hitting her most sacred, merely brushing it, so close and yet so far… she was losing her mind.

Her hips bucked; a writhing moan like a song was released as Prompto slammed into her again, with force, each push finding the spot that made her see stars. Cindy's body melted in his arms; she was gripping the bedsheets so hard her knuckles were white, and the sounds of her pleasure rained down like stardust. The heat was unbearable! All of it, it was getting… too much. His cock throbbed, the feeling was almost overwhelming, almost. Panting with the tension, his mouth dry and nether regions lit up afire, Prompto decided that enough was enough. Groaning, he hoisted the leg up a bit higher, treasured the way her free leg wrapped around him to pull him in deeper, and picked up a demanding pace, making sure to sweep her sweet spot on each powerful, deep thrust.

"Oh my… oh gods… a-aah! Ah!" Cindy bit down, her delirious cries becoming muffled hums under the onslaught of the carnal pleasure. Then, there was a gentle touch on her cheek, the hand tracing circles onto her cheek.

"Don't. Lemme… lemme hear you, Cin," he panted softly, the smile audible in the breathless voice. Her lip quivering a little, she unclenched her jaw, the pearlescent eyes shining up to their sky counterpart, and Prompto was rather confident his heart had just beaten double.

He felt like drowning into those wanton, lascivious eyes as Cindy's hazy gaze met his through half-closed lids.

"Fuck…" His eyes squeezed shut; the hand fell from her face to fist itself into the pillow next to her head; the burning inside him rose like lava as he pounded into her shuddering warmth, madly, deeply, desperately. "Oh, Cindy, I... a-ah!"

"Prom… Prompto, I'll… 'm gonna…" she hollered blissfully between thrilled pants. "S-so close… I'm gonna… gon-aa-aah!" Her head was thrown back in a ravished cry as she came, her shoulders burying into the pillows as the immense pleasure raced through her in endless waves.

Prompto grunted as her walls clenched around him, the sensation almost blinding him as the thrust into that enrapturing tightness like a madman, so close, so very close, desperate, maniacal…

Not far behind her, his passion erupted, and he buried himself into her trembling cavern for the final time; his breath caught as the orgasm hit him, ripping him of his senses, tearing through him with near violent intensity. It left him panting heavily as his muscles relaxed again, and he slumped on top of her, hands wrapping around the shivering form as he instinctively buried his face into her curls.

He heard Cindy's breaths evening, felt the subtle movement as she snuggled into his chest, and the unconscious urge to kiss her came over. Ignoring the soft hum of Cindy asking what was going on, Prompto brushed his lips over hers, tentatively, asking for permission, knowing that he shouldn't but wanting it anyway. And as she didn't flinch from it, something inside him leaped as he pressed down a bit more.

Cindy let out an apologetic little exhale as she turned from the kiss after a moment, a slender finger coming to rest on his lips as if to seal them. She smiled a sad smile, and Prompto could almost hear the sound of shattering as his heart broke a little at the look of remorseful refusal on her face.

"Let's just… be like this, okay?" she whispered, the finger staying where it was, silently signalling that it wasn't a negotiable matter. And Prompto knew this. They'd been over this. More than anything, however, more than anything, Prompto would have wanted to pretend otherwise. Would have wanted to unhear the truths he had heard months prior. Would have wanted to love her, if only she had allowed it. Instead, he allowed the finger to seal those hopes, those prayers away, and he nodded just once before averting his eyes into the mattress and coming down to rest next to her. Breathing in the scent of her, Prompto resigned himself to treasure the feel of her nudeness as the aftershocks surged up his loins in delicious tingles.

* * *

The last remains of climax faded slowly, like the joy had made its home in each muscle and refused to leave. But as their breaths had calmed down, the clammy sheen dried from their skins, all that was left were two people lying in a pile, enjoying the other's warmth for a moment longer. Until Cindy nudged his side, gesturing for him to move. He didn't, at first. Flashing her one of those sloppy grins, Prompto drew her just a bit closer as he wrapped himself around her. "Nnn, not yet," he almost sighed, like a purring cat.

Cindy rolled her eyes, but not in anger. "Prompto… I've gotta work."

"Work later." He smiled. "C'mon, it can wait, right?"

"Prompto." A degree of demand had found its way into her tone by now; she nudged him a bit more sternly, and with a reluctant sigh the blond man untangled himself and moved over. She gave him a soft smile as a thank you as she got up from the bed. But wait, there was something in it… something Prompto couldn't quite place. The smile… it had held nameless sorrow.

"Cin?" he asked, brows rising. "Is… everything OK?" She was shuffling for her clothes and didn't seem to hear him, so he tried again, "Cindy?"

This time, she turned to give him another smile, but this one was warped with the same gloom. Prompto's pulse quickened. Had he done something wrong? "'S all fine," she said, but the small hesitation in her voice hinted otherwise.

"Sure?"

"Yeah, this girl's all fine 'n' dandy." She meant it, this time, at least; Prompto let out a soft exhale of relief. Perhaps he had just read something wrong. A hedonistic grin rose back to his lips as he snuggled himself into the bedsheets.

"Don't go." He patted the place next to him, his eyes asking. Cindy's shorts were forgotten into mid-thigh as she looked at him, and for a hopeful moment it seemed like she was considering his offer. Then, with a small hop, she pulled the garment on the rest of the way and fastened the button before going for her missing bra.

"I can't."

"Why not?" It had been almost a whine. Desperate and childish; Prompto felt like smacking himself at how it had sounded. He knew better. He damn well should have.

"I don' think it's such a good idea." The sound he made was a stifled grunt more than any actual attempt of communication, but she could decipher it clear as day.

Cindy sighed deep as she turned to him; the bra had found its place again. "Prompto… we agreed 'no feelings'."

Prompto felt like he had been punched in the stomach. His blood ran cold at the implication. This… arrangement that they've had going on, they had agreed 'just sex'. It wouldn't mean anything. No commitments, no promises. No feelings involved.

He had thought he'd be ok with it.

He gulped, "Yeah, but-"

"I can't give ya what ya want, sugar," she deadpanned at him. Her arms had crossed. "Look. I know ya'd want this to be more." And after all these years, the gunner still felt the heat rising over his cheeks at the truth. He had told her how he felt in the past, many a time, but hearing it from her like this, it made him feel like that awkward teenager again; that innocent idiot who would resign himself to stand at the sidelines and watch his dream slip away. "But I just ain't tha' kinda girl," she shook her head a little. "I'm not lookin' for anythin' special, ya know." He knew that. Boy, did he know that. Prompto had never been able to fool himself. Deep inside, he knew he was wasting time trying. And nevertheless, despite all reason, Prompto couldn't help it. He couldn't help the fact that he still – and perhaps always would – loved Cindy.

"I know." Saying that aloud hurt him, like the last shards of his fragile purpose were being crushed with those words. Companionship or just a distraction, whatever it was that he had been looking for when they had first started this… it was crumbling around him. Prompto sensed where this was going, and he didn't like it.

"Do ya?" she asked, something akin to pity in her voice. The blue eyes flicked up. Cindy sighed tightly, shuffling on the spot a little. The olive gaze traced the trailer's flooring as a means of escape before she eventually spoke, the words Prompto had dreaded to hear, "Maybe it'd be better we called this off? I'm afraid 'ts only endin' up hurtin' ya." There was a hurt gasp. Struck speechless, Prompto could just stare at her, open-mouthed and horrified – desperate, pleading – as she raised her eyes to meet his gaze again, "I'm sorry but I ain't gettin' comfy havin' anythin' serious. And whatcha want is a love, right?"

'Don't.'

So far, he had managed to tell himself that at least it was better like this. At least like this, he could pretend that he still had _someone_ …

'Don't do this.'

"An' I'm sorry but I just ain't lovin' ya."

His lip quivered a little. The blond felt dizzy, it was like a gale blowing through his head, unobstructed and ravaging. The silence was deafening.

"Wha-?" he started, but had to cough his voice out of his tightening throat. "What're you sayin'?"

Cindy averted her gaze to the ground. "'S just it… I don' want ya misunderstandin' an'thin'."

'Misunderstanding.' There had never been a misunderstanding, not really. Prompto had always known he was reaching for the moon up in the sky when he had let himself keep dreaming. But that dream, it had given him hope. 'No matter how false,' he thought with a stab.

"It-it's not like that," he tried, but it faded away; he didn't know what to say, what could he possibly? She looked expectant, though, and stayed quiet to give him room in case he wanted to say something more. "I'm not… expecting this to lead to anything, just…" He shrugged, the blue eyes lingering in the unoccupied space on the bed.

"An' that's enough for ya?" The doubting eyebrow raise was audible; Prompto met her eyes again, if a bit reluctantly, and what he read made his stomach flip a little. She had made a decision.

"Prompto… yar very sweet 'n' all, but I just don' want the same things, ya know. And I don' wanna keep ya from findin' them elsewhere." She held a pause, and he knew what was coming before the words were out. "I think it better we'd just be friends again."

A lump rose into his throat. Unable to speak, he could just nod quietly. His eyes, though, conveyed the silent disappointment, the hopelessness he felt, but what could he say? If she didn't want this anymore, that was it. He wasn't going to beg, no. He refused to sink that low. Sighing deeply through his nose, Prompto averted his eyes, the sight of her suddenly just that much on the other side of bearable. "Can I… still see you, though?" he spoke quietly, defeatedly, forcing down the lump that threatened to strangle him.

The sound of her voice made him face her again; he could hear the moisture that had gathered behind her eyes. "Of course, ya can." She smiled him a little crooked smile. "Just… I can't give ya happiness." 'But you do!' "I… should go." She threw her jacket over her shoulder and flicked her wrist once as a goodbye. Then, with one last clouded smile she got out of the trailer, and as the morning sunrays illuminated her curls, her figure, Prompto was sure that for a moment, Cindy looked like an angel. His saving grace. Walking out, leaving him into the darkness. As the door closed behind her quietly, it almost seemed like something was being sealed away from the world. When he could hear the footsteps descending the short flight of stairs before fading away, the blond allowed himself to slump back into the bedsheet, an arm thrown over the sting in his eyes. 'Good job messin' this up, too, you...' "Fuck…!"

* * *

(Song: Shinedown – 45)

The wind whipped against his face as he stepped out of the trailer. Shivering a little, Prompto tugged his collar up higher and pulled the zipper up. With a deep sigh, he crossed the distance to the truck parked a few yards from his temporary lodgings, and after he heard the dull 'clunk' of the lock, the man hopped onto the driver's seat.

The key in the ignition, his foot already on the pedal, Prompto's eyes were drawn to the familiar entrance of the garage, and he wondered what she was doing at the moment. 'Probably working,' he mouthed to himself. Would she come to see him off at least?

Did he want her to?

Shaking those thoughts off, Prompto set his jaw as he started up. He kept a close eye on the open garage door as he pulled out of the parking lot, in hopes of seeing the familiar figure. The blue gaze never strayed, not until the entrance was already disappearing from his vision, and that's when he saw a slender form, waving a hand high in the air at the distancing tail lights.

.

.

.

The hum of the truck drowned underneath it the hisses of shaky breaths; Prompto's teeth grit a little. He felt like someone was tying his insides into a neat knot. Tremors ran down his back in cold mockery of a caress. And it wasn't because of Cindy. That, a cruel coincidence maybe, but hadn't he gotten used to it by now?

Prompto couldn't name a time when this hollowness hadn't accompanied him at every waking moment.

It was like a cancer. Slowly seeping into every single cell of his body, it had left him a shadow. A living ghost peering out into the new light, but seeing only ashes and umbra.

Ten months, eleven days. Since the day of the sunrise.

Since he had lost Noctis for the second time.

A shuddering sob forced itself out through his teeth. His shoulders shook as the pain of the loss clenched his heart again. "Shit…" Not a day passed that he didn't think about it. The sight of the raven, stiffened fingers still clutching the throne's armrests, impaled into the marble by the sword of his father. Pale. Cold. Lifeless.

Gone.

For once, he had been envious to the adviser.

How did he expect Prompto to take that image with him?!

"Asshole…!" the blond hissed into the air. Every morning he was reminded of it. Every new sunrise marked another reminder of the wrong that had come to be. The ocean gaze idly traced the scarce yet spreading vegetation as the truck sped down the highway. The plants had spurred into full bloom within weeks, like the seeds had just waited for the chance to rise with the first light of the day again. The first crops had been harvested four months prior, and the second yield would ripen by the end of the month. The world was healing. The survivors had adopted new ways of living.

But Prompto was gazing back at the days when things made sense. When he could still smile and mean it. When Noctis was still alive.

"Noct…" 'Why did you leave me?'

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A huge thank you to my betas Elillierose and Bagpipes5K2 for pointing me to the right direction with this one! Sometimes I need to be told to pull the brake, lol. This was headed to the gutter, haha.
> 
> Alright, so things are about to turn darker in the second chapter, guys. It has suicidal thoughts in it, as well as one reference to earlier events of the Tool series that might throw off some people who haven't read Heart and Mind. I mention a scar Prompto has on his right wrist; it's just reminiscing the past events and holds no critical info plotwise. Just, if you haven't read Heart or Mind, know that it refers to past self-harm. Also, I realize that this is starting to sound like one-sided Promtis at some parts, lol. It's not my intention, really, but if that's your thing and you wanna interpret it like that, be my guest, lol. That approach just might make this a notch more hurt for you, tho. :D
> 
> The song for this chapter is Hibernating Heart by Von Hertzen Brothers. Please choose the acoustic live Nova Stage version. I've marked where to start listening. Please do, if you possibly can. I think it brings added value to the scene I have it for. .3
> 
> Now, enjoy the pain! :D
> 
> Oh yeah! And also, if anyone knows the real name of Gladio's girlfriend, please let me know and I'll change it! I tried to look it up but couldn't find it.

Chapter 2

The rattle of gravel beneath his tires was slowly lulling him into sleep. Realizing that his eyes were beginning to droop dangerously, Prompto jerked himself awake with a small jolt, and smacked himself across the cheek for good measure to drive away the sluggishness.

"C'mon, Prompto," he chuckled to himself darkly. "Keep it together, man…" The fingers tightened around the steering wheel with more determination, the blond trying to shoo away any remnants of sleep. A fleeting thought of pulling over to catch a short eyeful drifted into his mind, sneakily, like a thief in the shadows. It was quickly washed away, however, as an image from a few days ago resurfaced. The image of the chicks floundering around the pen after drinking that accursed water, the hens stomping around restlessly, trying to herd their young… the young man released a heavy breath. He didn't have time to sleep. He'd sleep when the new oscillator was in action and the birds had something decent to drink again. He'd spent enough time on this trip already.

He thrummed the wheel mindlessly, idle gaze tracing the passing landscape. The rising sun cast lengthy shadows over the land, none tall enough to reach the road and shield him, though, as the rays made him squint and shade his eyes against the brightness a little. Thinking about the old man, Prompto inwardly winced. He hadn't expected this to take three days, but apparently, whatever had broken the oscillator had done it in for good. Cindy had deemed it unsalvageable, but, before the blond had had time to despair, the amazement of a mechanic had promised him a new one. The downside (upside): time. Seeing no choice (not minding at all), though, Prompto had agreed (been delighted) to stay in the caravan and see if he could help around while Cindy worked her magic on the apparatus.

But three days had been a long time. Wiz hadn't been pleased when he had called him about the hiccup and that he'd have to stay in Hammerhead a while longer. The old man's health wasn't quite what it used to be, and despite there being only the three adults and four chicks to look after now, Prompto knew that he surely could have used the extra pair of hands around.

There was nothing he could do about that, though. Wiz had told him that he'd manage, but also for Prompto to hurry back with the spare part as soon as possible. His jaw tightened a little, and almost autonomously, his foot weighed down onto the pedal a bit more heavily. 'As soon as possible' hadn't meant three days, he was all but sure of that. A sliver of guilt for taking pleasure in his absence nagged in the back of Prompto's conscience, too, but he shoved it aside. Last night had been… well, Cindy was done with the repairs so late into the night that it wouldn't have done any good for him to head out before dawn, anyway. What happened last night… Prompto refused to feel a guilty conscience over it. When Wiz had told him 'as soon as possible', surely, he had meant 'as soon as _sensibly_ possible', right? Cindy's schedule, being what it had been, he would have spent the night, anyway. As for _how_ Prompto had spent the night, well, he didn't deem it as anyone else's business.

A lazy wrist clicked the blinker to tic-toc to the left; the truck slowed into a near-halt before Prompto allowed his body to slide to the side with the momentum of the turn. It was with a heavy exhale that the blond hauled himself back to sit properly. There was an oncoming car on the next lane; half-closed eyes followed it keenly as it rolled closer, and almost sneakily his thoughts shifted closer to the dark temptation again, and he imagined what it would be like to turn the wheel. To steer suddenly, just that much past the point of no return. He knew he wasn't going to, he never would, but he played with the thought. They would never know, the other people in the other car. There was nothing they could do. They would never see it coming. He would be the only one prepared.

The two vehicles passed each other, unsuspecting and mundane, and Prompto sighed again, ashamed of his own thoughts. It was at moments like these that he was afraid of himself, of what he had come to allow himself to dwell on. Despite never wanting to actually go through with that, he nonetheless found himself asking himself, what difference would it make? It was at moments like these that Prompto had learned to count to three. To name himself three reasons – three reasons to exist.

Number one, he couldn't leave the old man hanging. His eyes drifted to the rear-view mirror, to the reflection of the tarp spread over the cylinder-like object secured onto the bed of his pickup. Wiz wasn't exactly in his teens anymore. The long dark had taken a toll on him, and when he had finally been able to return to the ranch, only to find the dilapidated buildings in dire need of repairs before he could even plan on bringing in new birds, Prompto hadn't offered his help with an expiration date. He liked working on the farm, especially now that they had the birds again, and his aid was genuinely needed. It was nice to be needed.

Number two, he would have more to look after in a few months if what he heard from Gladio held up, and why wouldn't it? About six months ago, Gladio had married his girlfriend, Mirina, he had mentioned her when Noctis – the blond let out a strangled breath at the reminder – Noctis had come back and the four of them had met in Hammerhead after so long. Prompto had been the official photographer at their wedding, an asking-for-a-solid the blond had accepted more than happily when the big guy had brought it up. And he really liked her, too. Mirina was like a bottle of champagne, a bubbly personality with a razor mind and a tongue like a whip when someone got onto her bad side. She was a bunch of fun, and Prompto was secretly happy for his friend. And the pride he had heard in his voice when the brute had relayed the news about the baby… it had sounded like Gladio was having a hard time keeping it all inside. He had heard a female voice laughing in the background, but couldn't make out what Mirina was saying before Gladio had uttered some lame-ass excuse to cut the call short, and frankly, Prompto had snorted at the dial sound he had been left with all of a sudden when the brute had cut the line. Let them have their fun, though. At least, for them, it was honest. Prompto sighed in anticipation.

Number three…

He always got stuck in the number three. So far, he hadn't figured out a number three.

The gloved fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white; hissing a pained sound, a warped snarl rising onto his face. 'Well, two outta three isn't that bad, I guess,' he told himself not for the first time. So far, he had been satisfied with only two. 'Better than nothing, at least.'

He had barely paid attention to the changing landscape, but trees had arisen among the grassland and the disappearing prairie he was rapidly leaving behind; he glanced at the clock. 9:40. He should be back by noon then. He fished his phone out with his right hand; the gaze visited the display only briefly before it caught something familiar and almost automatically slid further onto the scarring over his wrist: the light, line-shaped mar that snaked its way beneath the leathery feel of the wrist band.

His sin. His symbol. His little white lie.

He had never told a single living soul who wasn't present that day how he had got it. Cindy, among a few others, had asked about that some time; he had told them it had happened on a hunt, an accident. Usually people left it at that. And despite everything, Prompto had wanted to keep wearing something over it. He didn't want to keep looking at it, knowing that it was there was enough. It had almost cost him everything once; he didn't need to be reminded of that every day. The others had understood. It had been Noctis, in fact, who had gotten him a new band. He had picked it up from some market in Old Lestallum, the day after they had returned to Lucis. Had said something about thinking that Prompto might like it. "And I guess I kinda got used to seeing it on you." He remembered, those exact words. Prompto remembered wanting to cry at the time. He hadn't. But had wanted to.

He only took it off to bathe.

The sudden strong trembling of the truck brought him back. "Shit!" A strong twist of the wheel, and the truck swerved back onto the lane again; the blond cursed under his puffy breath. His heart beating a few extra, he panted lightly as his eyes scanned the road up and down. It hadn't been exactly a close call, but his teeth clenched in irritation nonetheless. He couldn't trust himself at this rate. Grunting, he picked his phone up again, recalling the task that he had been meaning to do. A few blind taps, only an occasional glance to make sure he was selecting the right number, and Prompto brought the phone up to wait for the other to answer.

It took a while, but on the sixth ring, there was the tune, and Wiz's voice greeted him, a degree of relief audible in it. "... Yeah, hey. It's me… yeah, I'm on my way." Prompto's lips tugged up a little at the sound of the man. "Yeah, uhm, sorry about that… yeah, it's fine. Cindy did an amazing job… it should… yeah, I'll be there by noon." There was the reply, the older man's thank yous and reminder for him not to speed, it wasn't that dire since there had been rainfall and that he could let the birds drink from the barrels until he got back. "Alright. Thank you, Wiz. I, uh, I've got this… yeah. Yeah, no worries… alright, see you in a few… right. Bye!"

He almost threw the phone down as soon as the red icon signaling the end of the call flashed over his screen, and leaning forward a little, brought his attention back to the road. His tummy made it known that he hadn't had breakfast, but Prompto ignored it the best he could. It was only a couple hours now. As soon as he was back home, he could just plug in the part, and go crash until dinner. It wasn't the first time he had gone a day without a meal; perhaps he had it too good if his stomach had the nerve to protest. He let out a breath; many weren't as lucky. Even though humanity had formed a resemblance of order, there was still far-spread famine in some parts of Lucis, especially around the Ravatogh mountain where the farmable land was scarce, and the livelihood of the people relied on importing. Plus, raider gangs plagued even some of the major roads, and sometimes entire truckloads of goods got pilfered, never to be heard of again. There was only so much the Hunters' community or what remained of the former Kingsglaive could do to maintain peace. They still had a long road to go, Prompto knew. And Noctis had left it up to them to rebuild. He had said, "I leave it to you." He had brought back the light, but had entrusted them with the future.

So, why did Prompto still feel like none of it mattered?!

* * *

Wiz was out to greet him as he curved up onto the front yard. Prompto jumped out of the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, giving the vehicle's door a couple appreciative pats as the older man stepped closer casually. "Welcome back, lad! Good to see you."

"Hey, Wiz," the blond flicked a wrist before pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "Shall we plug her in?" he grinned.

The senior's hands were loosely in his pockets as he sauntered closer. "You sure you're up for it, kid? You've had a long drive. Sure you don't need a little shut-eye before?" He offered him a quick welcoming hug, which the blond answered a bit awkwardly before pulling back.

"Sure, definitely. Rather get this over with so that I can go crash for real," the blond forced a laugh as he was already skipping towards the bed to undo the ropes holding his cargo. Wiz chuckled into his beard a little as he followed him.

"Hehe. If only I had that enthusiasm still, kid. The age doesn't come alone, you know," he shook his head, sounding a bit sad, and something about it made Prompto freeze his fumbling, and turn to face him again.

"Everything alright, ol' pal?"

Something changed in the other's demeanor at those words, like a cloud had slid off from blocking out the sun. Wiz shook his hand dismissively. "Blimey, didn't mean to… everything's fine, kid. It's just…" he hesitated a moment. "Well, it's good to have you back, Prompto."

The said man's eyebrows shot up a little, with a wave of concern. The times he had heard Wiz call him by his name were few in number. In fact, the fingers on just one hand were plenty to count the times. Something was up with him, but the way the older man avoided his gaze now suggested that he wouldn't be finding it out any time soon. It nagged in the back of his skull even when the men maneuvered the cylinder, the size of a small pony, down from the bed, and using two of the birds, hauled it up into the water circulator unit. As the machine whirred back into life, Prompto wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "You think that did it?"

"It should." Wiz patted the trembling metal casing as if to make sure it was really running. "With this, the birds should have their water source back in no time." His gaze sought the blond's before he added, his voice pure gratefulness: "Thanks."

Somehow, it was like someone had shoved something hard down his throat. Taken aback, Prompto could only hum, a little lost for a moment before, "It's, it's nothing."

"Was not! The birds couldn't have gone on for much longer, and had I ran up to Hammerhead myself, I'm afraid it would have been too late. You're practically a hero, kid. And the birds are gonna thank ya for it."

A nervous hand found its place on the back of his neck; flustered, Prompto scratched idly as his gaze swept the ground. What's this, all of a sudden? "It, it was nothing…" He was glad to be of help. "It was no big deal."

Wiz simply motioned him quiet. With a heartfelt smile on his face, he brushed off all his protests. "And bollocks, kid. I've lived long enough to tell when someone's heart is in the right place." And Prompto was sure that his just skipped a beat. "Say, kid. I've been thinking… would you like to take over the ranch after me?"

Okey, _now_ Prompto was sure that his heart had skipped a beat.

"Ta… take over? Me?!"

"Yep. Look, I've seen the way you work with those birds, kid. You really give them your all. And a heart in the right place is what this place needs after I'm done. I'm not getting any younger here, kid. A couple years, maybe, and I'll have to find someone to take care of the birds. So, I was thinking…" he motioned towards the dumbstruck blond.

"Me?! Wow, I, uh… I mean, thanks. Thanks, Wiz. I… I just…" he couldn't find the words. Too dazzled to speak, he just mumbled something until the other's gesture silenced his attempts.

"I understand that it's a big thing, kid. You don't need to answer right now. But think about it. I'd be happy to have you here, knowing that the birds would be in good hands with you." The look on his face let the other know that he was happy with his silence for the time being, he wasn't pushing him into anything. Sighing out a held breath, Prompto shook his head a little, his lips tugging up as his cheeks glowed hotter than usual.

"I will. Thanks. That's… that's pretty awesome though," he grinned. The older man held his gaze as he rested a hand onto his shoulder, gave it a light squeeze before he withdrew himself and made a move to leave.

"Take your time, kid. There's no rush. But away with you, now. Better catch some sleep before you drop on the spot," he chuckled, the older gaze lingering on the shadows under the blue eyes, the evidence of his exhaustion written all over his face.

"Y-yeah…" a lone hand found the back of his neck again, his gaze avoiding the other's. "I… should go lie down now. I'm beat."

"You do that," Wiz nodded with a small wave of a hand. "See you at dinner."

"Yeah. Thanks." The blond shuffled on his spot for a second before turning to head for his camper lodgings.

(*Click on the song here*)

The trailer had seen better days. Hell, Prompto could remember the better days. It hadn't been exactly glorious back then, either, the bare minimum in terms of spending the night indoors, but it had still beaten camping outside ten to zero. With a sigh, the image of what he remembered it to be like painted the grim contrast onto his retinae now. The paint was chipping on the outer surface, and rust crept out from beneath, slowly corroding the flimsy flight of stairs and licking the door frame. But at least it was relatively warm and dry on the inside, and although it lacked the luxuries like plumbing, it was enough for him.

The metal made a nasty creaking sound as his boot stepped on the second-lowest stair, making him wince with the pitch. Momentarily frozen on the spot by the hair-raising noise, shivers ran him through as he forced air out in a held-back huff, accompanied by a small head shake of disgust. The pitch of that, that metallic screeching… it brought back memories he didn't care to recall. A bad taste finding its way onto his tongue, he forced himself to move, and skipped the rest of the short ascend in one leap before pushing open the door to his seclusion.

Closing it behind him slowly, Prompto slumped his weight against the wall and let himself slide down as his knees turned to jelly. His head lolling forward, he brought a hand up to cushion it against his knee as he pressed his forehead into skin. Heavy breaths were let out into the surrounding silence, the exhales lengthy and drawn-out, inhales hasty gasps. His mind was quiet as he slowly became one with the emptiness.

Prompto pressed his head against the wall; a runaway tear slid down his cheek as his eyes squeezed shut tighter, then another. "Shit…" he whispered into the air as it became obvious he couldn't stop them, not this time. His exhales grew shuddery, and instinctively he pressed his head into the metal more firmly, like he was trying to fuse himself with it. His chest quivered, his heart clenching, fighting the icy claw that had closed around it.

He should have been happy. But the hollowness inside left him a husk, a lifeless puppet incapable of happiness or pride or fulfillment as his world was slowly ripped of colors, turning it all into a sea of grey, cold and lonely. A ghost in a shell with no purpose to live but too much of a coward to die, Prompto had resigned himself to this. This misery. No matter what he did, it wouldn't shake away the unjust. No matter where he went, this inadequacy would follow with him. It was like a shadow, always there but indomitable.

His eyes flickered open enough for his gaze to trace the inside of the trailer until it landed on the photos pinned onto his fridge door, and his breath hitched a little. There were several familiar faces, but most were of the four of them, back then, before it all went down the drain. His gaze stayed with one, one with all four of them smiling; Gladio's arm was thrown over Ignis' shoulder, who was looking like he was about to say something; Prompto was making the peace sign; and Noctis striking a movie star pose, looking smug. The lights of Lestallum shimmered in the background. A fresh pain tore at his heart; it was the same one Noctis had requested, had wanted to take with him. The breaths grew shuddery, his teeth grit.

He had found it sitting on the throne's armrest. Next to his friend's death-stiffened fingers.

What had beckoned him to take it, he didn't know. As they had gently lifted the prince's - no, the king's - body from his forever throne, it had felt wrong to leave it behind. It should go with Noct. So he had snatched it, telling himself that it would follow him to his final rest, so that they could be with him. But as it turned out, if that picture had been Noct's last memory of them, it had equally been his last memory of Noct. He couldn't let it go. Even as the king's body had been laid to eternal slumber, Prompto's fingers had clutched the wrinkled paper like a treasure.

Turning his eyes from the past, Prompto drew his knees to his chest, his arms snaking around them to hug them closer. It wasn't fair! None of it, it just wasn't! The way Noctis had gone - no, had been taken from them! - where was the justice in that?! Prompto's jaw tightened almost painfully. He had saved the world. His friend, he had given everyone hope. With the new sun came the new chance. At the cost of the life of the one who had given his all for others. How was that justifiable?

How was Prompto to accept such bullshit?!

The world could have rotted in darkness, for all he cared.

It had been too sudden, too soon, too sharp. Shakily, Prompto extended his aim arm, just like he had for so long. Ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that told him the truth, the man summoned the gun.

The fingers twitched irritably when they half-closed around thin air, the shock of the weight not being there traveling up his arm in bursts of tension. Prompto let out a quiet hiss of disappointment, a fresh salt stinging his eyes.

Of course he had known. It wouldn't be there. It would never be there again.

Noct. They had waited for ten years. Ten years that had felt like an eternity. But at least then, the gun had come. That thought, that treacherously simple gesture had become their beacon. As long as the weapons would come, they would hold onto hope. Wait for him, their king, to come back and right the wrongs done to this world.

But what good was the new world if there was no justice in it? Ten years, for three days. They had waited so long, only to have him torn away again. So soon, so brutally. And this time, Prompto gulped, his fingers clenching, this time it was permanent. What comfort was the light, when it had cost him so much already? What future… what future could there be if just making it to the next day felt like a chore? Lowering his forehead onto his knees, Prompto let his shoulders slump. What good did it do to plan for a future… when he wasn't living in the first place?

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I had a struggle writing this chapter. I couldn't figure out what to do with the character details, and after playing a lot of mental ping pong, I finally came to some conclusion. Hopefully it turned out suitable.
> 
> Again, thank you so much to my betas Elillierose and Bagpipes5K2. They gave me the much-needed feedback to reflect on and shape this into what it came to be.
> 
> And I want to thank you for reading this story, I hope the Tool series, or just 'Life', has been enjoyable. I've planned perhaps two or three chapters more, but that's gonna conclude the story and the Tool trilogy. I have it planned, and I think it'll finally be the redemption Prompto deserves. <3 I've dragged him through hell. ^^' Like, I love him, honestly. Believe it or not from the way I treat him in my stories. ;D

Chapter 3

_"_ _Is familiar hell...better than unknown heaven?"_

Prompto was crouching behind a cargo container, his back pressed against the rough surface and both hands grasping the handle of his pistol. His shallow breaths formed small clouds before the condensation disappeared into the darkness; the thumping of his heart was loud in the surrounding silence, too loud. It was almost like the noise had come from all around him and not just from inside him, like the entire world was beating to the tempo of his pulse. The repeated gulps did little but add to the anticipation as he peeked around his cover. Nothing. Not entirely trusting his eyes, Prompto stood up carefully and, staying close to the wall, sneaked forward as quietly as he could.

The sounds of battle reached his ears, and hissing a low curse, he dashed, his initial carefulness all but forgotten at the sound of the familiar voices. He heard his name being called. He heard those of the others.

It was a huge hangar. A loading deck of sorts. Thirty-some feet below him, they were fighting what seemed like an endless horde of demons. There were at least twenty, and more kept crawling from the miasmal pools of darkness. Prompto's breath caught in his throat as he slammed himself against the railing overlooking the mayhem, his eyes instinctively seeking out his friends' forms. "Guys!" his voice drowned under the infernal screeches. Grunting, the pistol found its mark and the shot rang out, but instead of piercing through or even crippling the foul creature, the bullet made an eerie 'chink' as it ricocheted from the ground beneath the fiend's feet as if it had never made contact. "What the-?"

He was interrupted as the smooth voice slithered suggestively, _'You could still get to the Crystal … if you went on your own. Your friends will have to stay behind.'_

Prompto remembered this. This hair-raising voice, he had heard it before. An unnatural feeling of not belonging came over him, and his eyes flew to search for the rough location he remembered having stood then. He was there, fighting off those demons, and the gunner sighed lightly. He knew what this was. He had to force down the urge to turn away when the other Prompto turned to look after Noctis' fleeting form as the prince dashed for the elevator. It was the last time he would see him in a long, long time. The younger him just didn't know it yet. Like he was hypnotized, Prompto watched how Noctis disappeared behind the blast doors. It took a moment for the thought of going after him to formulate.

Hopping to his feet, the blond hurried in the direction he had seen Noctis disappear to. His feet clanked heavily on the grate as he ran along the maintenance deck. The brief thought of the demons noticing his presence was shoved to the back of his mind; he'd worry about that later. He didn't care, he needed to find Noct! 'Before it's too late,' he thought, his jaw clenching, hastening breaths sounding through his teeth. "Noooct?!"

There was light in the distance, a familiar blue glimmer, and his steps quickened. "Noct?!" Coming to an abrupt halt at the entrance to the cavern, his throat clenched around an exhale as he saw him, standing in front of the Crystal, his hand raised as if he was about to touch it.

"Noct, no!"

Noctis flinched and turned to look at him. "Prom?" The gunner read the surprise and confusion on the raven's face before the flash of bright light, and Noctis' eyes widened as he was being pulled inside. "Huh?!" Turning back, the raven struggled to free himself, but as he watched, the Crystal was slowly swallowing him as he was dragged forward.

"No!" Prompto cried out as he dashed.

His arm almost gone already, terror, panic and disbelief were written all over Noctis' face as he reached out with his free hand. "Prompto!"

"Hang on, I'm coming!" He ran as fast as he could.

"Help me!"

"Noct!" Extending his hand, he reached for the raven. He was so close, _so close_. But perhaps it was just his wretched luck, or the Astrals had turned their backs to him. Prompto's fingers closed around thin air, Noctis' pained, scared scream rang in his ears as the raven was consumed by the jewel.

_'_ _Promptoooh!'_

He was pretty sure he was screaming, too. Wordless cries of misery as he stumbled forward weightlessly. Suddenly, the world exploded as a storm of darkness and voices and flashes of color. Letting out a low whimper, Prompto dropped down to crouch and covered his ears as he was hit with the vertigo. Around him, the voices got louder, angrier; they seemed to come closer, and Prompto had to stifle a gag at the rush of dizziness as the air grew somehow ominous, somehow suffocating. He could make out individual people from the cacophony of screams and cries and shouts, and he knew those voices. He loved those voices.

_'_ _You have been nothing but an inconvenience to us from the start,'_ Ignis' sneer had him gasping out in shock.

"Wh-what?" Prompto mouthed, a sting in his heart. "What're you sayin'…?"

_'_ _We wouldn't be in this mess right now if it weren't for you,'_ Gladio growled condescendingly.

_'_ _You're useless.'_

"Stop it," the blond whispered to himself as the overload flooded his senses. "This's not real," he repeated to himself like a mantra. They couldn't really be saying such things, could they?

_'_ _It was your fault Noct got taken.'_

_'_ _If we only had never met you.'_

_'Prompto…'_

"Stop it…"

_'_ _You were always just a coward.'_

_'_ _Nothing but a puppet…'_

_'_ _Traitor.'_

_'Traitor!'_

"No!" he yelled out, eyes squeezed shut and hands digging into his skull. "It wasn't like that! I'm, I'm not like that! I-" the rest of his plea was lost under the sea of screams around him, the voices now a blaring mess that was making his head hurt, until-

_'_ _Prompto. Why did you let me die?'_

"Huh?" Wincing, the blond cracked his eyes open. The vortex was gone, as were the voices, but his ears were still ringing. Blinking, he opened them fully as he gazed up at the neon signs and glimmering street lights of Insomnia. "What the…?"

He was really home. Insomnia, just the way he remembered it from his youth. He was in front of the palace gates, the majestic structure standing before him almost loomingly. Prompto had been through it just twice, the first time having been under significantly happier conditions than the second. But beneath the arch, there was a figure coming closer, and that had him scampering to his feet, dizziness be damned. Beneath that arch, coming towards him with steadfast steps, was Noctis.

It wasn't the young Noctis from a moment ago. The older one, now dressed in his kingly attire instead of his more casual wear, eyed him grimly as he closed the distance, all the while holding the blond, as if nailed to the spot, with his gaze. He stopped a few feet from the other, arms crossed over his chest and something akin to despair twisting his features as he just looked at him for a while, then, "Well. Aren't you gonna answer me?"

Prompto was thrown off. "Huh?! A-answer you what? Noct, is it… is it really you?"

"Of course, it's me," he scoffed, pain behind his pointed tone. "Or have you forgotten about me?"

"Of course not! Never, Noct. I…" Prompto's voice trailed to silence as Noctis came closer. "Uhm, N-Noct?" now merely a foot from the other, and the gunner found himself wanting to back off a little. The sudden closeness had his heart rate climbing slightly. But it about skyrocketed as Noctis reached out to run a hand through his spikes, then down his cheek before gently grabbing a hold of his chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Then answer me. Why did you let me die, Prompto?"

His limbs turned to stone, coldness spreading through him. Noctis' grip fell off as the blond shook his head, first disbelievingly, then desperately. "Why're you sayin' that, Noct? I-it wasn't like that! I didn't... I, I never wanted you to-!" he almost cried out, hating the pitch of his voice as he took a step back. This wasn't Noct. This Noct scared him. He lacked the warmth and the calm of the prince. This Noct before him was made of vengeance and regret. His fears were confirmed as Noctis took a step to follow him.

"Then why didn't you stop me, Prompto?!" Noctis spat out, his voice rising. "Why did you let me go?!"

The blond had backed away, his heart felt like it was slamming right against his ribcage. He was scared, looking into those pools of sorrow that held him pinned under their scrutiny like a butterfly on display. What could he say to that? Each attempt died on his tongue, each lie only slashing back at him as he recognized each one of them to be an excuse. "Noct… dude, chill out. You're scaring me," he snorted nervously as he backed away still, a part of him praying that there was nothing behind him.

"You knew that getting inside would get me killed, didn't you?" Noctis sounded different again. Now it was less of the contained fury, it was softer. It was regret.

The dark blues pierced through down to his very core as pain twisted the raven's features, "It's your fault I died, Prompto. You should have stopped me. Why did you let me die?"

Prompto couldn't believe he was hearing this, this wasn't real. "No. Noct, no! I never wanted to-! You said there was no other way, you were the King…!"

The raven came to an abrupt stop, huffing out in frustration as he was left to simply gaze at him, shaking his head in denial. "You should have stopped me, Prompto. Shouldn't have let me go." Then, he turned around slowly, shaking his head as if he was leaving behind something undesirable.

"Noct?" Prompto asked tentatively; a hand rose to reach the shoulder, but the other shoved it off. Noctis shot him one more glare – _a glare_ – over his shoulder,

"Your fault."

Air ran out of the blond's lungs; he felt like someone had elbowed him right in his abdomen. Like in a slow-motion movie, he watched how Noctis swished his head and started walking away. His hand was still held suspended mid-air after the king had pushed it aside; stood on numb legs, Prompto looked a lot like a landed fish, his mouth opening and closing but nothing coming out. "Wa-wait…!" He didn't know what to say to make him understand, he just knew he couldn't waste this chance, couldn't bear to let him go. Not again. "Noct, wait!" Forcing his legs to move, the blond ran after the distancing form. But no matter how fast he ran, he never seemed to get any closer. His legs were growing sluggish and exhausted even though he tried to push himself. Noctis got farther and farther. 'Come back!' Reaching out after the raven, he cried out,

"Noooct!"

The trailer snapped back in a fuzzy rush of stinging and the last hollow remnants of his own voice. Panting heavily into the darkness, Prompto could just stare with unseeing eyes, and the ceiling slowly came back into focus again. His left hand was clutching the bedsheets, the other was still stretched out, reaching for something that wasn't there. His arm trembled, and only after a while did Prompto allow it to slump down onto his chest, then wrap around him in a small gesture of holding himself. His teeth grit, breaths turning into hissing. "Noct" was so quiet it was practically mouthed. 'I'm sorry!' Prompto had to squeeze his eyes shut again to will away the guilt that now stung them. 'I'm so sorry!'

It hadn't been the first time. In the first weeks, Prompto remembered waking up screaming more times than he could count. It was always the same. It was always Noct telling him that it had been his fault. How he should have stopped him.

This hadn't happened in a long while. He had thought he was over it.

In the beginning, the first few times it had happened, he had told Ignis and Gladio about it. It had been Gladdy who had snapped him out of it a couple times, too, as he had been thrashing in his bunk bed, crying out Noct's name and gotten himself tangled into his own bedsheets. They had talked about it, both of them insisting that this had been Noctis' destiny all along. That there was nothing none of them could have done. That he shouldn't blame himself for anything. Even back then, Prompto didn't know whom they had been trying to convince, him or themselves.

He had never told them about their voices. Berating him. Accusing him. Prompto knew it would reopen some old wounds he would rather were left to the past. Even if it meant something was left unsaid between them.

Grunting, the blond forced himself to wriggle onto his side and snatched his phone from the nightstand. His eyes squinted a little under the harsh light, but as he got a little bit more used to it, he cracked his one eye open just enough to read the time: 22:37. With a moan of frustration, he shoved the device into his pillow as he let his eyes slide closed again. So he had missed dinner. 'Awesome,' he thought with a deep sigh. His stomach, now that he was lucid enough to realize it, was protesting loudly, and Prompto wrapped an arm around it in a weak attempt to make the gnawing sensation go away.

He pondered if he should just go get something from the mainhouse. But Wiz would be asleep already, the man usually went to bed early, and Prompto didn't want to risk waking him up for his own stupidity. He had some dry foods stashed in the small cabinet of the trailer kitchenette. Debating whether it was worth the effort, Prompto eventually kicked the blanket off himself, though, and scrambled up from the bed. Blindly he fished out his phone again, and switched the flashlight on to go scavenge whatever he could find from his small storage.

The cabinet door gave a warning squeak as he yanked it open with a little too much force. Hissing at the pitch, Prompto's eyes squeezed shut reflexively, a bead sliding down his pipe at the shivers it sent down his back. A blue eye cracked open a little to peer into the harsh light, then the other. A disappointed sigh left him as he counted the small selection available for him. There really wasn't much, and Prompto made a mental note to restock as soon as he could. It wouldn't help him at the moment, though, as only a couple of packs of crackers, some rations and a few cans of ready-to-heat vegetable soup stared back at him from the shelf. Rolling his eyes in frustration, he snatched the pack of crackers and slammed the door shut before slumping down against the cabinet to munch on the salty biscuit. Some dinner.

"Heh. Almost as good as what Iggy used to make," Prompto whispered with mock enthusiasm, then sighed again. He wondered what the ex-adviser was doing at the moment. 'Probably sleeping,' he shrugged at his own question. Ignis had taken to a strict rhythm. 'Early rise made for an early head start for the day,' Ignis had said once. Or something like that, Prompto hadn't quite caught that. Ignis had lost him at 'early rise'. Then again, the brunet had always been the morning person of their crowd anyway, Prompto thought, with a small pang in his chest. His head came to rest against the wood.

He missed him. All he had seen of the man since he had left Lestallum to come to live on the ranch had been at Gladio's wedding. It was six months ago. He met up with the brute at least once per month, sometimes more, given that the couple lived just south of Cauthess, but Ignis rarely left the city, much due to the responsibilities the brunet had engaged himself in. Prompto himself seldom had time to head out to Lestallum, either. It was a full day's ride, and spending even just one day out there meant that he'd be gone for at least three. He hadn't wanted to leave Wiz hanging for that long; Hammerhead had been a no-can-do.

But, he missed him. Sure, they called, but it wasn't the same. They'd end up talking about work or the weather or some other mundane stuff like that. It wasn't the same; he missed the man's company. The calm and the reassurance. Talking on the phone didn't bring that back. And Ignis was busy, he knew that. In the long months after the sunrise, the survivors had struggled to reform an organized society. A system, instead of a culture of scavenging, opportunistic battling for livelihood and at-gunpoint law enforcement. Ignis, with his leadership skills and knowledge, had taken a part in shaping the new governing method, in the lack of a model. The royal line of Caelums had died with the 114th, and in the absence of a pre-existing system, the survivors had to forge a new one. Ignis didn't want to talk about that too much, though, saying that there was still a lot to do, and Prompto hadn't pried further. At least they now had some resemblance of peacekeeping, and aid was going out to those in need, that was a start. Theirs was still a wild west: who cared about making new laws when they barely had a society to govern in the first place?

Gulping down the last bite of the fourth cracker, Prompto smacked his mouth at the dull aftertaste before tossing the pack a little ways to the side. He wasn't hungry anymore. Not because the biscuits had been much of a meal, but… he sighed deep. He had lost his appetite. Thinking about Ignis and Gladio - their voices in the back of his mind, always judging, always doubting, always, _always_ berating… no! Prompto shook his head to drive those thoughts away. No! It wasn't like that. He, he trusted them, with his life. 'And they trust me!' he told himself firmly. Sure, they had had their bumps on the road in the past. But it had worked out. For all of them. Both of them, Prompto knew, would risk their lives for him, and he would do the same. They were more than friends to him, they were a family! They…

He gulped, a deep sigh leaving him.

They were all gone.

He was all alone again.

* * *

Prompto slept poorly. Intermittent and restless hours with more tossing and turning than actually laying down. He remembered glancing at the clock at around four, but apparently he had fallen into a form of slumber in the early morning hours, since when he jerked out of his hypnosis to look at the clock again, it read close to seven all of a sudden. With low moans of frustration, he tried to stretch the exhaustion from his limbs before crawling out of the bed, and towards the kitchenette.

The blue gaze landed briefly on the discarded pack of crackers, and Prompto inwardly scowled. A bit reluctantly, he snatched the item, and gobbled up a couple of them, something to jump-start him as he grabbed the first jacket he could get his hands on, and almost dashed out of the trailer, the walls suddenly enclosing and feeling like he'd suffocate if he stayed inside a moment longer.

Wiz was out before him, though, already feeding the birds their breakfast as the chicks tangled in the adults' feet and slipped out of the pen to scratch something up from the ground. Chuckling lowly, Prompto quietly sneaked up on an escapee, and gently scooped it up, the chick giving a frightened peep for its mother before it apparently recognized the blond kin, and calmed down in his arms enough for Prompto to carry it back to the pen.

Wiz waved his hand in a sloppy greeting as he got closer, "Mornin', kid. Slept well?"

Prompto jerked his head as a reply before crouching down to let the baby bird go, "Morning. And, uh, not too bad, I guess."

"Had quite a nap there last night, didn't you?"

"Uh," the younger started, feeling his cheek heat up a little, "I, uhm, sorry about the dinner."

"Don't worry about it. 'T looked like you needed that sleep, son. Didn't wanna wake you." Then, as if to remember something, Wiz's eyebrows rose, his expression seemed to brighten up, and he added, "You must be hungry. C'mon. Breakfast's ready."

Baffled, Prompto's gaze went to the birds. "But what about-?"

"Hehe. Nonsense, kid. The birds know how to eat without you. Come now. One can't work on an empty stomach, now can he?"

"Well, s-sure," he uttered, a shy-slash-grateful grin rising onto his face. "Thanks, Wiz."

"Don't mention it, kid."

Wiz led him indoors. Despite joining the man for dinner practically every night, Prompto still felt like a guest to the mainhouse. It was something he never mentioned, but Wiz seemed to read it from the way the junior held himself, how he always waited for permission to sit or make himself at home. He had told Prompto many a time that he didn't need to be a stranger, that this house was now his home as much as it was his, and that he was free to help himself to anything he wanted. But Prompto had always just thanked him, never really acted upon it, it didn't feel right to him. He saw himself as an employee, or a tenant at most, working to pay for his living. But the idea of making this his home, too… it felt foreign to him. He had had a home, once. It lay in rubble in Insomnia. He had spent so long on the road that he had never allowed himself to get attached to one place enough to make it a 'home' again. Not even Lestallum. He had had a place, but it had been the same. Temporary, just like his stay. A place to sleep and call his own, no more.

Wiz's kitchen was compact, but sat the two of them comfortably enough. Prompto often wondered if there had been a missus, but had never asked. He didn't think it was his business. Wiz didn't ask too much about his past - which Prompto appreciated more than the man would ever know - so he didn't want to seem like he was prying, either. The savory, rich aroma of freshly cooked mushrooms and meat brought water onto his tongue, and Prompto subconsciously licked his lips a little. He hadn't even realized how hungry he actually was, but when Wiz set the plate in front of him, Prompto could hear the heavenly bells tolling as he eyed his meal like it was an oasis in the middle of a desert.

The older man chuckled into his beard as the blond dug into it almost voraciously, "My, had I known I had a voretooth living with me, I'd made some extra." Embarrassed, Prompto gulped down the last forkful as he averted his eyes and chuckled a bit hesitantly,

"I guess I was bit hungry." His attention was brought right back, though, at the man's heartfelt laughter.

"You really don't hafta apologize, kid. Glad you like it."

Scratching the back of his neck, feeling awkward all of a sudden, Prompto decided that it was probably the best to change the topic. "So, what's for today?"

The other ran his fingers down his beard in thought. "Well, I've been meaning to replace the roofing on the shelter there… would you mind giving me a hand with that?"

"No prob!" Prompto grinned, stretching his arms up energetically. "Leave it to me!" He was already rising from the table when the other's voice halted him briefly,

"Heh, I didn't mean right now, heavens. Sit down, eat. The work ain't runnin' from ya. Just lemme finish this here-" But Prompto motioned him quiet. Shaking his head, he smiled a little.

"Nah. You take it easy for a day, gramps." He flicked his fingers a little as a sign saying that he got this. "You've been running this place alone for three days, and I think that calls for some me-time for you, man. I've got this," he pointed his thumb at himself. He set his dishes down into the sink as he brushed by towards the door, "Thanks for the meal." He offered the senior a smile before turning on his heel to head out. The blond head swished around just in time for Prompto to miss the amused shake of head and Wiz's private smile.

"You're welcome, kid… Heh, 'gramps'...

For the rest of the morning, Prompto tinkered around with the tiles. It wasn't exactly the kind of work he excelled in, being more of a tech guy, but he wanted to do a good job. The birds strolled closer once or twice to take a look at what the human was doing, but the next louder bang or an unexpected clank of a tile scared them off. Prompto would stop to go calm the birds ("Easy. Easy, now, buddy…"), making a mental note to be more careful before getting back to his task.

When he finally hammered the last nail down and hopped down to admire his handiwork, Prompto jolted a bit at the excited peep sounding from behind him. His head spun around just in time to see a flash of yellow rushing by his feet before the chick was already hopping around the construction excitedly. Then, the bird scratched the ground a couple times before settling to sit beneath the shelter, looking at him like it was smiling. Prompto let out a strangled little laughter, "Well, I'm glad at least someone approves." He stepped up to drop next to the chick to pet it gently. And as the chick pushed its head against his palm affectionately, it was then that a memory resurfaced again.

The black chickabo. That one had been special. Prompto sighed, a sting of longing in his heart at the loss of the animal. They had managed to salvage the egg and brought it back here. Had practically been its adoptive parents, that's what he had thought. And it had been here, in this very place, to be exact, that they had met the baby bird for the first time. Rare as the black ones were even back then, by now, Prompto feared that they were all but extinct. The number of chocobos dropped alarmingly over the dark times, and he hadn't seen a single black one in years. That little fella, that one he missed. That, and the memory.

The bird must have sensed that there was something off with the human; it gave a softer peep, tilting its head a little as if it was asking him, 'is everything alright'. Suddenly embarrassed for drifting into his memories again, Prompto snorted, vexed, as he ran his hand down the bird's back. "It's ok, lil' buddy… everything's fine," he consoled it-or was it himself, he didn't know. The chick stared up at him with beady eyes, twitching its head in perplexion. Then, it laid its head down against his leg, and gave a deep, nigh inaudible sigh as it made itself comfortable. Prompto felt like choking.

The trance was broken with an abrupt jolt as his thigh vibrated; the chick spurred up, startled, and Prompto tried in vain to calm it down before it had sprung off already, peeping nervously. With a sigh, he followed it with his eyes as it ran off to its mother before digging his phone out. Tapping the message open, he read the words from Gladio, _'You didn't forget about that dinner tomorrow, did you?'_

Shit.

He had so forgotten about that.

Gladio had invited him over for dinner a week ago, but when the oscillator broke down, it had slipped from his mind as he had headed out for Hammerhead.

Wiz was going to love this.

But, he didn't want to call the dinner off, either. Gulping a little, he sent a quick reply, asking if they wanted him to bring anything.

_'_ _Just haul yourself over here, and we'll take care of the rest.'_

Sighing, Prompto pocketed his phone again, and pushed himself off the ground. Running a hand through his hair, he grabbed a firm hold of the hairs on the back of his head and gave it a frustrated yank before he strolled towards the mainhouse. "Hey, Wiz...?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I feel so happy to have reached the point where things are heading uphill. I owe Prompto so much love, for all of Tool so far. His Redemption Road is wide open.
> 
> The song for this chapter is Rodney Atkins's "If You're Going Through Hell". I've marked where to start listening again. ^^
> 
> Beta read by Elillierose and Bagpipes5K2. Thank you so much, guys. You've given me so much motivation to finally finish Tool, and your suggestions have been direly needed. You guys rock!

Chapter 4

As expected, Wiz wasn't too thrilled about the news. The young man snorted inwardly at the light, yet clearly, disappointed crease that had formed on the farmer's forehead, but the blond steeled himself to see this through. He hadn't meant to upset him, he had honestly forgotten. "So, yeah…" hung in the air.

Wiz didn't say anything for a moment, just nodded slowly, "Well, if ya must go, then ya must go." Then, his face softened, "They yar friends, after all. The drudgery around here ain't running from ya." Prompto's eyes lit up.

"Thanks, Wiz."

"Hehe. Don't thank me, kid. Believe it or not, but I was young once, too, ya know. I wanted to meet up with my pals for a few as well." The kid let out a stifled little laughter, and winked.

"Yeah? When was this, a couple eons ago?"

"Musta been before ya were even a hopeful glimmer in ya papa's eyes, kid," Wiz chuckled, but his smile faded a little as he misinterpreted the suddenly awkward look that had come onto the blond's face. Had he said something wrong? Now that he thought about it, the kid had never talked about his parents. Perhaps the memories weren't that fond. Sighing, the older crossed his arms loosely over his chest, and when he next spoke, it was with apologetic reassurance, "I'll manage with the birds, dontcha worry about that. Now that the water pump works again, all should be fine." He held a small pause, waiting for the blue pair to meet his again. "Go ahead and take the load off for a while, kid. How long do ya need?"

Prompto had drifted into his memories a little. Those words…would there ever be a day thinking about his origins, the true origins, wouldn't rile him up? The sudden silence, the expectant air offered him a subtle clue that Wiz was waiting for an answer. Looking a little taken aback, the sky eyes flicked on and off the man a little, noting the newly-formed frown, this time questioning and…concerned…wondering if everything was alright… A small sound of undecidedness, Prompto stammered a little, "Uhm, a-a couple days should be fine. I, uh, I kinda thought about swinging by Caem, too, now that I'm at it…"

The greyed eyebrows rose a little, then came down with the understanding, and Wiz's smile held warmth again as he nodded. "By all means, kid. I get it that it's important to ya."

Looking sheepish, Prompto simply cracked a little embarrassed smile. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Well. I take it that ya need the truck?"

"If…it's not too much trouble. I'd love to take a bird, but-"

"But it's faster by a car. Of course, ya can."

"Thank you." The old man was about to hush him already, to end the fuss over a relatively small matter, but the way Prompto looked at him then, that gaze shut him up. The look in the sky eyes, it was earnest, it was grateful. But, there was something else in in that look, too. Something fragile that spoke of a meaning that went beyond the words uttered. "No, I mean it. Thanks, Wiz." And the old farmer only noticed that his mouth hung agape a little when he snapped it shut, that captivating gratitude in the other's demeanor had mesmerized him for a moment.

"What're ya talkin' about?" the farmer muttered, breaking the eye contact as a warm shade crept onto his face. "Now, what're ya doin' here, kid? The hay bales ain't gonna stack themselves," he chuckled, embarrassed, but obviously pleased, and Prompto didn't have the heart to keep abashing him. Cracking a small smile and a 'Right', the blond turned on his heel as he headed back out, stretching a little as he went, pretending he didn't hear the amused little snort and quiet shuffling of farm fabrics he left behind.

* * *

The next morning, Prompto woke up early. He had slept, soundly, but when the alarm of his phone went off, the blond almost shot up from the bed. Just because he was given a day off didn't mean he was going to slack off on all the chores. Yawning lightly, the gunner got dressed and was out of the trailer in a matter of minutes. The nippy morning air whisked off the last of his sleep as the chill humidity gave him the goosebumps. Shivering, he hugged himself tightly as he skipped across the yard toward the bird shelters.

"Morning, guys," he called out to the animals as he clicked the lights on, and started gathering the greens and hay. The birds eyed his hassling curiously, cawing a little confusedly, as if they were asking him, 'wasn't it just a bit too early for this?' Prompto gave out a little laughter as one of the adults, the male, tilted his head at him questioningly. Pausing to pet him, the blond murmured, "I know, buddy. It's too early for me, too." He went to hand out the food, making sure all the birds got to eat, before stopping by at the trailer to pick up a change of clothes and his shower essentials, and headed to the mainhouse.

The scent of freshly cooked breakfast nearly carried him down the stairs to the kitchen when he was done with the shower and had changed. Wiz was making the usual eggs, but it was the still steaming loaf of bread that had the blond's lips curl up at the edges. Wiz's seed bread was the best! No offense to Ignis, but even he couldn't make better. Coughing a little to let his presence known, Prompto stepped closer just as the older man spun around to greet him.

"Mornin'," the blond jerked his head as a greeting before sitting down to his usual seat on the table. "Oh, and the birds are fed. You don't hafta worry about it."

"Really?" he sounded impressed. "Well, thank ya kindly. Sounds like you've got up early then."

"Yeah, kinda," Prompto shrugged, this time with a cheeky smile on his face, one that had Wiz's eyebrow rise curiously. "You know what they say. Early rise, early head start, or how was it again." The old man laughed heartily.

"Whatever ya say, kid."

They ate languidly, chatting lightly about Prompto's trip and that he'd better make sure to tell the big guy and the missus that Wiz sends his greetings. When they were done, Prompto was about to gather his plate, but the farmer motioned for him to leave it. Saying that he'd take care of it and that Prompto should hurry up and get to packing, he ushered him out. Scratching the back of his neck a little, the blond thanked Wiz for the food, but allowed himself to be shooed away as Wiz gestured for him to just go.

Back in the trailer, he fished out his duffel bag and started gathering what he needed. That's when his eyes drifted towards the kitchen, and the fridge. The photos on the fridge, to be exact, and he sighed deeply, all movement ceasing. The duffel bag dropped onto the bed as he almost slouched into the kitchen. His gaze locked onto the one in particular, Prompto fought a war inside, his fingers tracing the edge of the picture. It didn't belong there. Much as he treasured it, it wasn't his to keep. His hand hovered over it, hesitantly, before the man snorted, his teeth gritting, and snatched the picture off the door, the force of it sending the small magnet flying, but he didn't care. As he looked at their smiling, carefree, smug looks on the paper, the blond felt loss. Indescribable, bottomless loss. He was looking at a world that didn't exist anymore, at people that had gone and passed. All he wanted was to have all that back. He would do anything, would give anything, if only it would bring those days back again. But all the wanting in the world wouldn't bring any of it back, never again, and letting go of the memory equaled admitting it, it was like abandoning the hope. But - Prompto forced his eyes away, fingers gripping so tightly he almost wrinkled the picture - he had promised. All those months ago, he had promised. This time, he would see it through. Forcing his legs to move, he went back to his discarded duffel bag, stuffed the photo into one of the side pockets, and quickly pulled the zipper closed, almost like he was afraid that he might change his mind if he didn't. He didn't touch the side pocket again, barely even looked at it.

A few more things, and the blond deemed himself ready to go. Checking that he had everything, he pulled the trailer door closed behind him.

Prompto didn't know why it surprised him that Wiz was out seeing him off, but the young man's heart leaped as he noted the form leaning against the truck. It wasn't an uncomfortable leap, though. Just, he didn't know how to respond to that. Wiz, he...the whole scene, it reminded him of something. Wiz, he felt like a...a parent...or at least, what Prompto had seen as his last memory of Insomnia. King Regis, seeing his son off…

He took a deep breath through nose to chase those thoughts away as he stepped closer. Wiz pushed himself off the vehicle to give him room to get in; the older man patted the hood lightly as the blond pulled the door closed and ran the ignition. "Well. Safe ways, kid."

"Thanks," Prompto grinned, a bit fazed by the situation, but he tried his best not to show it. He appreciated this, dearly. He just...didn't know what to do, how he should deal with this. His parents hadn't seen him off even when he left for the road trip.

"And ya be sure to tell 'em that I said 'hi'."

"I will. Uhm, well, take care, Wiz. See ya later."

"Bye, Prompto. Take care." And at that, Wiz stepped back, watching as the blond pulled into motion, and he kept his gaze on the distancing vehicle until it swerved behind a curve and disappeared.

* * *

(Please click on the song here.)

Prompto hummed to himself, breaking into singing lowly where he could remember the lyrics. A melody from his teenager years, one that used to play on the radio for months at a time. It had been one of his favorites. The young man sighed through his nose. There hadn't been entertainment radio since the darkness came. All the radio equipment had been reserved for emergency communication at the time, and even now, there were things far more important than entertainment. Survival came first still. Aid was the essential; no-one had time for leisure. Music had returned from the radio waves to camp sites and bonfires. And to memories. To moments like these.

Restless fingers tapped the steering wheel, along with the light sways of his head. Prompto leaned his elbow onto the window sill, steering with just one hand as the landscapes swam by him in increasing pace. Tall trees, with an occasional opening where the mosses and bushes had taken over. Where the treeline gave way to the view, in the distance, he could see the massive arcs of stone standing against the skyline like a monument. And, in a way, the meteor site was one, right? Not man-made, but one nonetheless, and it was the natural roughness of it that made it all the more appealing to Prompto. He had been fascinated when he had first seen the breathtaking sight, and it never ceased to amaze him still, no matter how many times he saw it. Gladio had picked a nice place to live, he had to give the big guy that. A nice place, and a nice somebody to share it with. He sighed, a sad smile rising onto his face; he shook his head a little as a memory resurfaced.

" _Gladdy, stop! You're embarrassing me!" a bright, fond female voice laughed, the sound of it lacking the bite of her words._

" _It's your own damn fault for being so cute," the said man growled back at her, teasingly as he nuzzled her neck, making the woman squirm and giggle with the tickles._

" _Sta-ah-ph!"_

" _And what will ya do if I won't?"_

" _Guys, get a room!" Chuckling to himself, Prompto rolled his eyes at the couple's antics. He didn't mind, though, not really. Frankly, it was pretty amusing, to see the shield like this. Playful, with his act dropped, completely honest with the woman he held in his arms. It wasn't the Gladio he had gotten used to, but it seemed like it was the Gladio he had always held inside, and Prompto understood that this side of the man would be never presented to him. Suddenly, it felt like he was intruding. Looking at something that wasn't meant for him to see._

_It was the humored chuckle next to him that drew his attention, though. Ignis sat on the camping stool, his head tilted in a way from which Prompto knew that the man was listening. There was a soft, sympathetic smile on the man's lips, like he was recalling something from ways back: a fondness he hadn't felt for a long, long time. "Gladio seems to be in high spirits, doesn't he?" the adviser asked, directing his question to the blond, somehow knowing exactly where the other was. A bit taken aback, Prompto glanced at the cuddling couple before returning to the brunet,_

" _Like a kid in a candy store. In fact, I think I'm getting diabetes here real soon."_

" _This Miss Mirina seems like an enjoyable character."_

" _Yeah, she's great," Prompto made sure to sound enthusiastic. He meant it; the woman, Mirina, whom the shield had introduced to be the mystery girlfriend the men had only heard so much about until tonight - Prompto really did like her. She was cute, although she surely had some mouth to her. Reminded him of Iris a bit, to be fair, but Mirina was sassier, not to mention the age difference, too. And she seemed to make Gladio open up a bit more. The way he looked at her, it was special. It was warm and treasuring, and Prompto understood that he was looking at the shield in love._

' _Love makes us act like we are fools.' That had never rang more true to the blond than it did as he now gazed mischievously at the couple as they came to sit with them, holding hands and both smiling._

_Unbeknownst to him, Gladio had just handed him the most powerful weapon of all time._

_Prompto would never let the shield live this down as long as he breathed._

The sun had crept closer to the midday mark, the sunlight now above him instead of in his eyes, and Prompto glanced at the clock, the smile widening into a more satisfied one: he would be well on time. The forested areas of the slowly descending meteor basin were shifting into the grassy plains of the southern side, and the temperature in the car was rising, even with the window rolled down. The bright sun made the vehicle into a miniature greenhouse, and soon had the driver's face gleaming with a light sheen of sweat.

A breeze greeted him, throwing his hair over his eyes a little, and Prompto blinked as he thought he recognized a pleasant aroma in the wind. Did he just imagine it, or did the air smell of the sea? This far inland, it was impossible. Shaking his hair out of his eyes, the blond sniffed a little more, but couldn't pick the scent up anymore. His brows drew a little closer together; funny, he could have sworn he had felt it just now. He tried again, but nothing. Shrugging the feeling off, he turned his attention back to the road. Prompto only barely noticed that the treeline was left behind him, replaced by the lower growth of the Cauthess plains.

* * *

"Prompto!" Mirina was beaming when she opened the door, immediately extending her arms for a hug.

"Hey, Mir," the blond returned the gesture. "How's it going?"

"Well, you know…" she shrugged, gesturing towards her clearly protruding stomach a little. "But heavens! Where're my manners? Come in! Gladio's been looking forward to seeing you so much!"

"He has?" Prompto's eyebrows rose a little. "Really?"

"What do you mean, 'really'?" she mimicked his tone. "Gladdy's been on and on about you for days. C'mon." Turning to talk to someone further inside the farmhouse, she called, "Gladdy! Prompto's here."

After a moment, the telltale thumping of heavy steps came closer, and from the basement door emerged a shirtless Gladiolus, wiping his hands onto an oil-stained rag. As the former shield's eyes landed onto the blond, the man's entire demeanor seemed to lighten up. Prompto offered him a toothy grin, "Yo."

"Prompto!" The men hugged briefly before the host pulled away, giving the other a quick once-over. "You've lost weight."

"Have I?"

"All skin and bone. Add a dark wig, and you'd pass for my sister," he teased.

"Ha-ha. Hilarious," the blond snorted, then got more serious. "What're you workin' on?"

The shield sighed through his nose. "Truthfully, I was fixin' the boiler. The damn piece of junk won't keep the water hot. You mind givin' me a hand with that? You were always better at this sorta stuff."

"Sure!" Prompto nodded, then smirked, "You gonna put a shirt on, big guy?"

"What's the matter?" the shield called his game. "This too hot for you?"

Not fazed, Prompto just scoffed, "I thought you're a married man."

"He sure is," Mirina reappeared behind her husband, and pecking a quick kiss onto his cheek, she pushed a ball of cotton into the man's hand. "Put a shirt on."

"You're in this with him, aren't ya?" Gladio chuckled as he pulled on the fabric, conveniently missing the wink Mirina gave the other.

"You boys play nice now, will ya?" she fixed Gladiolus with a meaningful look before turning back to Prompto. "You wanna drink?"

"I'm good," he declined with a small shake of his head, then crossed his arms at the brute, "So, whatcha say was the matter again?"

All it took to fix the boiler was a few spare parts and a couple of adjustments, an easy-peasy when you knew what you were doing. After cleaning themselves up a little, the men sat around a garden table, sipping their beers.

"So, how've you been?" Gladio asked, the amber eyes narrowing a little at the subtle, yet there, flinching of the other.

"Pretty good." Aiming for casual, only coming out as downhearted and dubious. The shield's brows furrowed, so Prompto hastily added, "Wiz offered me to take over the ranch after him. So, there's that. Oh, and he says 'hi', by the way."

"That's...great news. Congrats," Gladio gave a little salute with his bottle, one that the blond returned, although a bit haphazardly. The dark man took a gulp, letting out a held breath before, "But that's not what I'm askin', though, and you know it."

Prompto averted his eyes, knowing exactly what the other was on about, and frankly, he had feared that this would go to this at some point. He just hadn't expected it to be quite this soon. "I'm fine," he insisted stubbornly.

"Sure doesn't look like it to me," his tone held concern, not scolding, and Prompto sighed deep. He couldn't deny it, not exactly. How had he been? Like shit. And he had been busted about it, too, the look on Gladio's face was enough to tell. Prompto said nothing as he turned to look away, hearing the low sigh that carried the undertone of a grunt, "Prompto…"

"I know."

"What's going on?"

Prompto's throat clenched, a soft sound of hesitance slipping out. Feeling like he was an accused on trial, the blond avoided the amber eyes, all the while knowing that they saw right through him still. He sighed, his chin dropping. "I...I had that dream again," he eventually admitted as it became all too obvious Gladio wasn't going to let him get away with it. "It's been almost a year."

Understanding without being told what it was that had the younger man so upset, the shield leaned back into his seat, averting his eyes. Neither of them said anything for a while; Prompto's breath hitched a little at the recollection, Gladio looked like he was looking for the right words. What he came to choose was:

"You still thinkin' about it?" Gulping quietly, the other simply nodded. "Prompto...it's been eleven months."

"I know."

"We've been over this, you need to move on."

"I know!" the sky eyes snapped back at him, glaring a little, then, "Sorry."

The older man didn't seem bothered, though. Instead, he looked eerily relaxed, holding the beer on his lap as he gazed into the distance. "Don't be. But you need to stop living in the past, Prom. You need to let go of him."

"I don't want to," the blond hissed bitterly. It was the pain speaking now, robbing him of reason as the loss tore at his heart again, merciless and undulled.

"Noct's dead, Prom. You're not."

"And you think that's fair?!" Prompto tried not to snap as the words burned on his tongue. So long had he wanted to speak them. So long had he waited for justice. He was done waiting.

Gladio looked a bit taken aback at the reaction; as he gazed into those ocean pools, now blazing and vivid like two furnaces, for the first time, the former shield really saw the anger, the sorrow that the younger had held inside, harbored for so long. He let out a breath through his nose. "It was his destiny, Prompto. There was nothing we could do. Noct did his duty, and so did you. So did all of us. All we can do now is carry on." The blond's teeth had sunk into his lip as he tried to keep it from trembling. Shaking his head a little, Prompto turned his eyes to the sky, as if it would hold the answer. "Look. I get it that it's tough, but ya need to let go of it. You've got things to live for. Ya have your whole life ahead of ya. Didn't you just say that Wiz wants you to take over the ranch for him? There's a goal for ya. You've got a future."

Faint tear tracks had run down the younger man's cheeks as the shield kept talking. Letting out a shaky breath, he sniffled a little. "I know," Prompto almost whispered. "I'm tryin'."

At a loss for words, Gladio let out another breath as he backed down a bit. Allowing Prompto some space, he averted his eyes again and didn't say anything more for a while. Then, "I miss him, too, you know. Hell, like damn. But some things ya...ya just have to deal with."

"So, you too…?"

"Um-hm," the other grunted, then took a healthy sip of his bottle. "Used to beat myself over it. Thought that I should've done better. Been better. Damn good any of that ever did to me."

Prompto didn't say anything, just listened. Heat crept up his face and ears as he recognized himself in the other's lament, and stole a sideways glance at the man. Gladio. The King's unbreakable shield. Gladio had been through so much, and had pulled it off. He was strong. He was sturdy. He kept going. Prompto admired him for it. He admired him for a lot of reasons. He had gotten over it, had built himself a life, a family. He had a future. He would have wanted to be like the man next to him, a survivor. Instead, he felt like nothing. A waste of space and life, clinging onto his own weakness because he feared of failing should he try to break free from it.

"There was nothing we could have done, Prompto."

"I know."

"I know you do. Just, try to focus on other stuff than that," the dark man offered, a hint of apology in his tone.

"Thanks, Gladdy. I'll, I'll try," the gunner said, his voice weak, but at least the shield had meant it kindly. Offering him what he hoped to be an encouraging smile, Gladiolus thought it best to change the topic,

"So, you...wanna hit a hunt in the morning?"

"I, uh…" the blond averted his eyes again, a hand finding the back of his neck a bit nervously. "I thought about swinging by Caem…"

"Uh, Prompto…!" Gladio rolled his eyes.

"I wanna go, alright?!"

Snorting, the older man simply shrugged. "Alright. Just…" it was left hanging in the air as words failed the man. The unvoiced wish shared between them, Prompto simply nodded, knowing what the man had wanted to say.

"I know. Thanks."

"Just, take care of yarself, kid."

"Oi! I'm not a kid anymore."

"You are if you keep acting like one," the other smirked, patting the younger man friendly on his shoulder, a gesture Prompto playfully pushed aside. "C'mon, champ. I'm pretty sure that's the roast coming outta oven that I smell." With a small gesture, he lead them both back inside.

They ate with a good appetite, the small party chatting and having a good time. Mirina wanted to hear all about the chocobo ranch, practically drowning the blond in congratulations on his offered post. And at some point, when they had finished the dinner and sat comfortably, talking, the couple eventually dropped Prompto the bomb. The baby was due in about four months. And they wanted Prompto to be the child's godfather. Dumbstruck, nearly to the point of dropping his drink, the gunner could simply gawk at the two of them, then sputter incredulously, that of course, yes, of course, he'd be honored to be a godfather, absolutely! Overwhelmed, Prompto felt his heart leap, warmly, happily, as his gaze went between the two of them, their smiling faces, grateful, happy, and he found himself smiling, too. Honestly; not the practiced smile he offered for facade. This one came from within, a true expression of feeling and...Prompto found himself wanting to hold onto that.

The rest of the night was spent in much the same manner, the three of them enjoying themselves, drinking and laughing until late into the night. As the next morning came, Prompto left them with his very fond farewells, and, before the sun had reached its summit, headed south.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: For this chapter I actually have two songs, both by Von Hertzen Brothers. The first is 'I Gave Up', and the second is 'Faded Photographs'. I tried, and the first one is a bit tricky to find on YouTube, so I strongly recommend using Spotify Free online, both songs should be accessible via that. I'm afraid it only works on a PC, though, since Spotify Free is bs on a mobile device. But I hope you'll get to access them, since I firmly believe that they give so much to the scenes I have them for. I usually put quite a bit of thought into fitting songs to text, and this time, the melody should really add to the moods I'm going for.
> 
> Anyway. I sincerely hope you guys like it. This is the last chapter of "Life" as is, there is going to be an epilogue-sort of chapter after this, though.
> 
> Also, special thanks to my two betas Elillierose and Bagpipes5K2 - you guys know why. :) And I wanna thank you for reading Tool and leaving feedback (especially MysteriousBean, thank you for your continued love for this! Makes my day every time!). I honestly can't believe it's been about a year since I started with "Heart"! But after this is done, I apologize in advance, but my posting rate is likely to drop drastically. The Tool project has been so much fun to write, I've met crazy cool people through this thing, and it's given me so much joy (and almost as much headache), but atm I feel like I wanna focus on other stuff irl. So, thanks so much for seeing this through with me. I'm not gonna disappear completely, but definitely gonna slow down some. Take care, guys!
> 
> Now, let's get crackin'!

Chapter 5

 (VHB - I Gave Up)

The fading daylight cast long shadows across the lighthouse hill, a faint breeze rustling the wrinkled leaves on the ground. A solitary figure ascended the trail slowly, hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders tense and his step heavy. Prompto let out a shuddering sigh as he neared the granite structure: a broad slab taller than a man, with four smaller pieces lining it from both sides. On the slab, in golden letters were written the words,

 

_In loving memory of_

_His Majesty_

_Noctis Lucis Caelum_

_XCIV_

_. ._

_Great is he who_

_Stands not for himself_

_But for the people he loves_

 

Prompto's breath hitched. A lump had come to rest in his throat, his face twisted into a pained look as the blue gaze swept over the cold stone, but avoiding the name on it.

"Hey, man," he almost whispered. Not trusting his voice, the blond hissed quietly at the shakiness of it. The pocketed fingers fidgeted against the smooth feel of the photo. "How's it goin'?"

"I, uh, I got ya somethin'." His hand only hesitated a little as he pulled the picture out. "You...you kinda left this behind," he mused quietly, his voice fragile. "Thought you might want it back." Crouching down next to the granite, the gunner studied the photo, each little detail, as if he was trying to commit it all to memory - while he still could. A soft sigh slipped out of him, and Prompto gently placed it to lean against the stone. "There…"

The corner of the picture flapped dangerously in the ocean breeze, and the man quickly snatched a small stone to set as a paper weight. Sighing deeply, Prompto kept gazing at the lost boys on the paper, and the scraping feeling in his throat rose higher, stinging his eyes. He hadn't even realized when it had happened, but almost sneakily, his knees had met the cold, hard stone beneath him; and in vain did he try to fight the strength leaving him as his posture slumped. "I miss you" came out under a held-back sniffle. "So damn much!" Prompto hissed lowly; his eyes had squeezed shut against the familiar salt he didn't want to let out. "Why did ya hafta go?!"

"I'm sorry," guilt had seeped into his strained voice. "I'm sorry, Noct! It was my fault." The raven in his dreams was right. He should have done something. Should have stopped him when he still had the chance. If he had, Noct would still be…! He breathed a heavy sigh, followed by another, then more, and the blond let his head roll to the front as his upper body shook with the subtle tremors.

He had just let him waltz headfirst into his untimely demise. Where was the justice in that? What purpose did it serve that someone like Prompto had lived, and not the one who was so much more deserving of it than him? He felt like he had cheated death, but lost the life nonetheless. All because he was nothing but a coward. He hadn't stopped Noct. So, then he should have followed him at least, accompanied him like he had used to.

He had done neither of those things. And now Noct was dead and he was alive, and it was Prompto's fault! "I'm sorry," he uttered, his voice a bit wheezy; his teeth sank into his quivering lip. "I should've been better. You...you deserved better." His fingernails clawed into the stone slab; his heart was clenching, like a chain was tightening around it, squeezing the life out of him. Prompto felt so alone. So alone, and unworthy...

'...mpto…'

"Uh-nh?!" The blond's breath hitched at the faint voice - warm, feminine. There was a tingling sensation on his cheeks, cool like water but not uncomfortable.

'Prompto.'

The blue eyes cracked open, then widened, the blond's heart skipping a beat or three. "La... Lu…" the tried, but his voice wouldn't obey him. It got stuck in his throat, which, Prompto could swear, was being crushed by an invisible force as he stared, wide-eyed and disbelieving, at the luminous, ethereal features. Lunafreya smiled at him with the warmth of the very sun as she held his head between her hands, her bright eyes shining at the gunner. Then, she leaned in, to place a light kiss - cool, like her hands - onto his cheek.

Prompto's breaths came in shallow gasps as he sat frozen to the spot, even as the woman withdrew from him. She lowered her hands to grab ahold of his right, but her gaze, that loving smile, stayed with him for a while longer until she averted her eyes onto the wristband, and a frown Prompto couldn't interpret set over her features. The cool touch moved higher, over the wrist, and the man gasped and twitched at the sudden stinging that soon faded into more tingles as a warm glow radiated from the woman. "Wha-what're you…?"

Lunafreya raised her eyes to meet his again, and the sensation faded away. Gasping quietly, Prompto turned to look at it, and his poor heart jumped again as what he saw - or rather, what he saw _not_ \- sunk in:

The scar on his wrist, it was gone.

The overwhelmed eyes snapped back at the spirit at break-neck speed; Prompto had opened his mouth to speak - he wanted to say so much, to ask her so much - but nothing came out, just false starts and empty utterings. Words lost to him, the man could simply gawk as Lunafreya's head tilted to the side a little; her smile took a knowing edge, and she flicked her eyes over her shoulder as if she was urging him to look behind her. Gulping, Prompto did. And a strangled sound slipped out as his eyes widened.

Behind her, tall silhouette drawn against the setting sunlight, a dark figure was walking closer to them. Prompto's lip quivered, his breaths became shuddery; he blinked rapidly as he felt the floodgates inside crumbling down, the salt he had held back up to that moment now welling up in his eyes. The sound he made was a low croak, strained and teary,

"Noct…"

Noct looked beautiful. The softness of his youth had given way to the prominent features of a man, and the lack of beard highlighted the high cheekbones and a strong jaw. The deep sea eyes held otherworldly lustre, the sun rays danced on the charcoal hair that descended to frame his face elegantly. The sight, only to be described as regal as the man neared them with confidence in his stride; Noct looked every inch the monarch he was born to be, and suddenly Prompto felt even smaller. A poorly contained sob slipped out of him.

Lunafreya offered the blond one more smile before she released his hand, and slowly rose to stand. Turning around, she gave Noctis a meaningful nod, which the other answered. Her hand brushed over his chest briefly as she passed him before her spirit faded out of sight.

The raven's figure was distorted as his vision became blurry. For so long had Prompto wanted to see him again, to undo what had come to pass, to be able to be with him. And now that he was...he was drowning. Too ashamed to speak, hardly even able to look at him, Prompto fought to gather himself. He didn't want to be seen like this. He didn't want _Noct_ to see him like this.

The king crouched down next to him, the midnight eyes soft yet observant as he studied his friend for a while. Then, Prompto could feel the same tingling coolness on his shoulder, the nudge he felt there the same as it had always been, so distinctively Noct. Drawing in a shaky breath, the blond blinked away the tears.

Noct's lips cracked a grin. There was something boyish about it, the grin from years ago. "Hey."

"He-hey," Prompto forced out, his tone borderline question. He couldn't believe this was happening. He wanted to. Heavens, he wanted to! With all his being, he wanted to treasure this, but the coolness of the touch on his shoulder also reminded him of the true nature of things. He drew in a breath, hesitant, and arguably, a bit scared.

Noctis must have noticed the other's discomfort, for the grin disappeared, the look replaced with consolation. "Prompto. It's alright, it's me."

"I-I know it's you. I just...you-" the said man's voice faded with a low gulp. He didn't know what to say. He had thought he wanted to say so much, but now that he was here, suddenly, Prompto felt empty. His head was buzzing, all those things, all those words out of his reach. "I-I…" he stuttered; his lips moved, searching, nothing, until:

"I thought I'd never see you again," Prompto admitted, relieved-slash-pained tone seeping into the syllables. "I missed you," his voice was trembling, and it took all the guts he could muster at the moment, but the blond looked the royal in the eye as he confessed him his hurt. Noct, sensing that he wasn't done with his outburst, said nothing, only looked at him, solemnly read the turmoil that had been eating at Prompto for years.

"I...we, we waited for so long. And...and when you came back, I thought that-" the rest of it faded into a rogue sob; Prompto's eyes squeezed shut, his lips drew back into a small snarl, and he turned to hide his face a little. When he next spoke, his voice was thin and pitched, "Why ditcha hafta go?" 'So soon', Prompto added in his mind, a means to ease the ache. Deep inside he knew, had always known, that Noct hadn't come back for them. He had come back for his calling. But, was it so wrong that after ten years - ten years! - Prompto had hoped for a while? A while to just forget about destinies and callings, hell, about the world, and just be friends again. Was that too much to ask?

A brief look of shock flashed over the spirit's face; then, his face morphed into a sad look. "Prompto, I had a duty to fulfill. I was the Chosen King-"

"I don't care!" the blond spat out, losing control of his mouth for a moment as the tsunami of all his suppressed emotions flooded him. "It's not fair!" he almost growled at the ground. "It's not fair, Noct! We waited for ten years, not knowing if you'd ever come back. We, we just hoped you would. And when you did-!" Prompto's voice broke, he gasped in a shuddery breath, his teeth gritting together as the poisonous words - the foul, detestable words - burned his tongue. "It was only for you to...to leave us again."

Noctis watched, mortified. Prompto's shoulders shook, his head hung, and droplets fell onto the cold granite, his breathing shaky and uneven. He had fallen awfully silent, except for the desolate sounds, and he could feel the chagrin radiating from the other. Prompto, he had suffered so much. "I know. I'm so sorry, Prom," he spoke lowly, his voice riddled with sympathy and sorrow. "But it wasn't for me to decide."

"I know," the other whispered. How many times had he heard this? If he had a Gil for every time, and all that. Just, hearing it over and over again, it didn't make it any less "...bullshit."

"What's that?"

"I said, it's bullshit, Noct!" the sky eyes snapped to shoot a hot look into their deep sea counterparts. "All of it, it's just…!" Prompto spat, then snapped his mouth shut, a look of realization crossing his features, then morphing into shame, and the blond averted his eyes again. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Don't. Don't be sorry," the spirit consoled him; the grip on the gunner's shoulder tightened. "It's me who should be saying that. But you must understand, this was the path I was meant to walk, and I did. I get it that it's a lot to take in, but it was the only way. I was the Chosen," Noctis spoke with reassurance; and for some reason, Prompto's cheeks heated with embarrassment, and he had to look away. God, he must have sounded so childish! Why was he this way?! Why was this so hard for him, when everyone else seemed to be doing just fine?!

Noctis wasn't done talking, though. But now, it was more like the blond heard the voice in his mind as the royal's lips remained still. 'So many have given their all for the king, Prom. So, too, must the king give his all for them. It had to be done, so that the people could live in peace. It was my duty. And you had a role in it, too.'

"I know" slipped out of the gunslinger, almost unnoticed. Realizing what he had said, his gaze drifted to the side again. "I just…" he started, then clamped his mouth shut, not knowing what he was saying anymore. The words had come out on their own. "I still should've stopped you." His voice was so low it was almost inaudible, but Noctis caught it anyway; the dark brows furrowed.

"What're you talkin' about?" he asked a bit incredulously. But at that, Prompto flinched, a small hiss slipping out as his lips spread into a pained snarl.

"You know. From goin' in there," Prompto shook his head. "If you hadn't…"

And at that, the royal understood. Understood what it was that Prompto had harbored all this time. "Prompto," Noctis started, the pity audible in the raven's voice slashing at the gunner's chest like a hot blade. "What's this now? If I hadn't, people would still live in darkness. I was supposed to face Ardyn. To end all that. We all knew what that meant. You know that. Nothing would have changed that."

At that, the blond fell still. Completely, deathly still. Like he had been paralyzed. Then, slowly, slowly, the sky gaze met the midnight again. "Y-you mean...that you don't hate me?"

Noctis looked taken aback. "Hate you? Of course not, Prom, no! Why would you even say something like that? What, you think I'd be here if I did?"

The royal meant it. Every word, Prompto could tell, from the baffled look on the other's face, from the incredulous note of the tone. Noctis didn't hate him, never had. It was Prompto who hated himself. And Prompto couldn't do it. He couldn't look at him. He feared what he would see in there. Feared what Noct would see in him. He feared that he would see something disgusting. Something to drive him away. He didn't want to lose him, not again.

As the brighter blue gaze averted again, the spirit sighed. Noctis didn't understand. Why would Prompto say something like that, think something like that? "Prom…"

"Y-yeah?"

"Why did you wanna stop me?"

"I-I don't know. I...I guess I just…" There was a soft smacking sound, as if the struggling man had clamped his mouth shut. "I didn't wanna let you go," he eventually admitted. "I-I know it's selfish, I just-" the gunner's voice faded into a low sound he made in his throat. Noctis fixed him a stern look. Not harsh, but penetrating. As if he was looking directly into the gunner's soul.

"And you still haven't, have you?" he spoke out, a degree of solemnity audible in his voice.

All was still for a moment. And when he eventually reacted, Prompto didn't even look at him when he simply shook his head. Next to him, Noctis sighed deeply. "Prom…" The said man drew in a hasty breath. "Look at me?" Noctis could hear the gulp, could see the shiver, but to his grace, Prompto did. And the royal had to let out a breath of his own before he, holding the sky gaze, said, "You can't keep clinging to the past, Prom. You know it, don't you? You are missing out on so much if you keep up like this," the raven tried to persuade. "I want you to live your life. I don't want you to lose yourself." His next words caught into his throat as he watched how Prompto's gaze wavered, how his teeth sank into the lip. He sighed deep before he continued, "Please, understand. There was nothing anyone could do. It was meant to be like this."

"I know," Prompto whispered, his voice strained. 'Please, Noct…' He didn't even know what he was asking anymore. He was such a mess.

"You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened, Prompto. Remember what I said to you guys before we parted?"

That hit him like a truck. Of course, he did. How could he forget? Eyes sliding closed again, Prompto let his head lull to the front a little as he whispered,

"'Walk tall.'" He heard the raven's voice in his mind in unison with his own, and he gasped in another shallow breath as he felt the coolness against the top of his head, but couldn't bring himself to open his eyes.

'Walk tall. Exactly.' Noctis had closed his eyes, too, as he rested his forehead against his friend's.

"Noct, I'm-"

"It's alright, Prom. Just, I want you to accept that. Accept me being gone, and move on. Please. You have so much yet to live for, I don't want you wasting it by living in the past. I can't be there for you anymore, but I'll always be with you. With all of you guys. You see it in every sunrise. But my work here is done. It's all up to you now."

Prompto was crumbling inside. His world, whatever it was that it had consisted of, was falling apart. 'Again,' he thought. And yet, somewhere in there, there was warmth. Beneath the ruins of his fears and inadequacies, there was an old glow of adventurousness, guile and determination. And as the touch on his shoulder never wavered, instead it grew firmer, so did the glow. As it began to dawn what it meant, taking in deep breaths, Prompto cracked his eyes open. Sensing the motion, the raven drew back to give him room as the sky gaze rose to look at him again.

"Alright," he whispered. "Alright, Noct. I'll try." And the raven saw something in those ocean eyes then. There was the hurt, the fear, the loss and the loneliness, but aside from them, he saw a new glimpse of ambition and perseverance, too, the fight he remembered. His eyes so full of everything that they were cluttered, Prompto cast him a look - a look of a prisoner who'd been falsely incarcerated and was now being told that they were a free man. There, among the agony, was hope. Hope that Prompto had thought he had lost. The raven smiled.

"And you'll do way more than that, I know it." He held the gaze for a moment, silently communicating the blond all his love, all his sympathy. And although it was just a little, the blond returned it. "Be happy, Prompto." 'You have so much to live for.'

Snorting out an embarrassed little laugh, the blond instinctively brought a hand up, to lay it on top of the raven's, but flinched a little as he only met thin air before he felt his own shoulder. A bit abashed, he let the arm drop, but that wasn't enough to rattle his composure. Not anymore. "Thanks, Noct," he said lowly, his voice a bit thin but rock steady.

All the reply the raven gave was a dismissive shake of his head, his smile filling his eyes as he motioned for the blond to get up. And taking a breath, Prompto pushed himself onto his feet. They stood there for a while, just looking at one another, engaged in a silent conversation that spoke of compassion and forgiveness. It was the luminous shine behind the raven that caught Prompto's eye eventually, and he glanced over his shoulder briefly. Lunafreya stood a few yards behind him, hands behind her back, an expectant smile on her face as she looked at him. And Prompto's heart stung as he understood what it meant, but somehow, the pain wasn't as bad as before. This time, is felt...oddly right. "I, uh," he started, "I guess you need to be goin'." He motioned behind Noct, and the raven glanced around briefly, although he didn't seem surprised, before meeting the other's eyes again. "Can't keep the lady waitin'," Prompto uttered, but couldn't mask the hurt in that. Noctis' expression got more serious, too, but he only nodded a little.

"Take care of yourself, Prompto," he offered him his palm, and without thinking, the blond clasped it firmly. This time, his hand didn't slip through.

"I will. Thanks, Noct. Thanks for...making time for this loser," he winked, moisture in his eyes but not threatening to fall. "I guess we never really moved past that, huh?"

"Says you," the royal grinned back. Then, with a final nod and a grip on the other's shoulder, Noctis turned to leave. Prompto's throat clenched as he began to step away, his hand twitching to reach him, not to have to witness this again! But it was Noctis who offered the last gaze. The black head turned back for long enough for the blond to catch the moisture in those night sky orbs, and the small waver of his smile as he nodded. He saw the love in the raven's eyes, the wish to see him be happy, and Prompto was sure that his heart seized for a moment. His hand suspended in midair, Prompto gasped in a hasty breath as his lungs started protesting their lack of oxygen. By then, Noctis had turned away. Taking slow steps to meet his awaiting bride, the king didn't look back again. Prompto watched him go, watched him greet Lunafreya, saw the elation on her face, before the both of them turned to look at him, to offer him one more encouraging nod, before they started walking towards the darkening sky, their forms fading.

Prompto watched all of this with a strange stillness in his heart. It wasn't the hollowness he had gotten almost used to over the long months of light. This feeling was serene, calm. It held sorrow, yes, but it wasn't overbearing, not anymore. More like an undertone. As the ghosts had already faded, his right hand rose to his chest, and he bent over a little, his eyes sliding closed and whispered, "Bye, Noct. Thank you."

He stood still for a moment, his eyes on the dimming horizon. He was shaken out of his reverie as the moisture sliding down his cheek registered, and he quickly went to brush it off. It was then that his eyes caught a glimpse of his wrist, that band in its usual place, but something else was different. Prompto's breath caught, his heart fluttering as he searched and searched for the scar, to no avail.

It was gone. Completely erased, as if it had never been there, and Prompto's chest felt tight as his teeth grit against a new surge of tears that swelled just beneath. Bringing that hand over to his face, he kissed the two fingers, and his hand shaking, pressed them against the granite structure. 'Thank you…' Unable to utter a single sound, his throat tight, he simply surrendered to clawing at the stone, its surface unrelenting as his digits brushed against it. With a shaky breath, the gunner gathered himself. With one more look down at the wind-whipped photograph, Prompto nodded slightly as he took a deep inhale, and turned to return to the car. He was too far to see it when a stronger gust flapped the edges of the picture before tearing it along, the faces on the paper disappearing from view as the wind carried it out to the sea.

(VHB - Faded Photographs)

The blond didn't look back as he returned to the vehicle, and hopped in. Only as he sat behind the steering wheel, the engine already running, did he cast one last look towards the distant figure of the monument atop the hill. And it was then that the stretch on his facial muscles registered. It dawned to him that he was smiling.

"Bye, guys," the blond whispered into the emptiness. Then, he turned to look over his shoulder as he backed off the parking area, and turned around. The thin vapor of the exhaust was the final mark he left behind him, and that, too, was quickly swept away by the gusts.

As Prompto put distance between the landmark, the farther he traveled, the more the feeling of relief - unspeakable, liberating relief - rose in his chest. The shackles that had bound him previously becoming undone as the chain connecting him to his sin was shattered, piece by piece, the ball staying behind as Prompto was engulfed with the feeling of redemption. So long he had carried that burden. As it now slowly crumbled around him, for the first time in months, Prompto felt like he could breathe. Deep down, he knew he had a long road ahead of him. But at least he had stepped back onto the path. He let out a shuddering sigh as it felt like his heart was beating out of his chest. Clutching it tightly, the blond felt the beats beneath his fingers, strong and steady, and released a shaky breath. He was alive. And it was high time he started living again.

The dusk had matured into full-bodied darkness. Not eager to spend the night outdoors, as soon as he saw the lights of a rest area, Prompto pulled over and got himself a room; and as soon as he had gotten himself settled in for the night and taken a shower, the blond slumped onto the bed and, for the first time in a long time, was soon sound asleep.

He woke up refreshed. Making a quick work of getting himself ready, he wasted no time as he set off for the road.

. .

Wiz stepped out from the mainhouse as the rumble of the truck rolled to a stop on the front yard. The blond hopped out, and there was something in his manner that made the older man's brows rise a little. The youth looked...energetic. And there was a lightness to his demeanor, something carefree Wiz hadn't seen before. He flicked him a greeting as the young man came closer, and if he didn't know better, Wiz could have sworn his step was almost bouncy.

"Welcome home, kid," the elder greeted him. Soon, his eyes widened in surprise, though, as, instead of replying, the blond stepped up to draw him into a quick hug. It didn't last for long, barely long enough for Wiz to realize what was happening, but as Prompto withdrew from it, his cheeks lighting up a bit as if it was only just registering to himself what he had just done, the farmer chuckled into his beard warmly, "My. I take it that ya had a nice trip then?"

And the way the kid's eyes lit up as he looked at him was something the farmer would treasure for the rest of his life. Prompto was practically beaming as he offered the other a smile - a warm smile, an honest smile - and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it was."

"So, anythin' I can give a hand with aroun' here?"

* * *

_Somewhere_

_Under your everyday restraint_

_Hides a faint_

_Echo of laughter_

_From the hereafter_

_From an existence known to be true_

_A voice is warning you:_

 

_Don't let your future repeat your past_

_Away with your faded photographs_

_They're colors on paper that won't last_

 

_Like the wind you can expand yourself to be free_

_Like the waves you'll understand that you are the sea_

 

_Just don't let your future repeat your past_

_Away with your faded photographs_

_'Cause even the treasured ones won't last_


	6. Epilogue: One Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: It's over. It's done.
> 
> The song for this last-last chapter is again by Von Hertzen Brothers, called "War Is Over". I've marked where to start listening it again.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much, everyone, who's been involved in the Tool project in any way, be it anything - beta reading, reading, loving it, hating it - thank you. It's been a pleasure. Now, I hope you enjoy.

Life of a Tool: Epilogue

One Year Later

The hays shooshed against the concrete as the light currents of air, whisked about by the brisk steps crossing the threshold, sent them gliding along the floor. In addition to the low creak of hinges, there were curious and lively yips and caws greeting him as Prompto stepped inside. "Morning, guys!" he called out to the birds as he went to fold the doors open. The shuffling sounds of the chocobos became more frequent.

He was wearing a casual T-shirt and below-knee length cargo shorts, and his usually up-done hair was still down, the front part of it swept to the side and a tad bit clammy from the humid night air. An ungloved hand was pulled through it, guiding those stray strands out of his eyes.

A larger bird with tussled-looking chest feathers and a stripe along its beak extended its neck over the railing of the pen as it cawed at him excitedly, the beady eyes fixed on the human, awaiting. Prompto stepped up to it, scratching the sturdy neck vigorously as the bird nuzzled its head into his chest and shoulder. "Morning, Boko! Heh, how you doin', buddy?" It must have recognized the name, or the tone, for the animal gave a loud yip as it pulled back, then ruffled its wings a little as it stomped on the spot cockily; one of the other adults, a female, immediately stepped closer. Prompto couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeaah. You just feast your eyes on that handsome devil, ladies."

Without another word, he went to haul an entire large bag of fodder onto a wheelbarrow and snatched a knife from the holster next to the pile to tear it open. The juvenile birds ate now even more than the adults, so feeding the hungry crowd had become a considerable effort. Prompto didn't mind, though. He didn't mind at all. All this, the routines of the farm, his chores (can you really call something you love doing a chore?) and the habits, they all gave his day a steady, safe rhythm to fall into. He still wasn't too fond of the early morning, but he had managed to stretch the start to a more tolerable time; and as time had gone by, the two of them, the old man and the kid, had adopted their pace. A silent pact that was comfortable for both.

He had led a scheduled life for so long - first the school days, then the time spent on road, on his way from a destination to another all the time – perhaps this was something he had missed. Over the dark times, when day was no different from night and when he had had nothing stable, just scattered missions, hunts, and irregular trips, he had lost the last resemblance of a rhythm. Having something concrete, something repetitive like this gave him a sense of security and constancy. Something from the way back, something solid, something to anchor himself into. Something that made him feel like he belonged. Gave him a purpose.

Oh, yes, Prompto had missed this. Missed feeling like there was a place for him to come back to after a day's worth of exhaust and endeavor. A place where he was needed and wanted to be. A place for him to call home.

He maneuvered the food over to a large tray before emptying the contents into the half-pipe-like structure. The eager steps following him gave him barely room to get out of the way before the birds were already pushing against one another to reach the meal. Prompto snorted a little. "Geez, guys. Keep that up, and you _will_ manage to trample me one day," he murmured under his breath. He gave the nearest feathery side an off-hand pat, one of the juveniles looking at him as if asking 'what he wanted' before it returned to the food; snorting a little laughter, the gunslinger pushed himself off the pen pole he had been leaning against, and trusting the birds to handle themselves, he stretched his arms and thighs a little before heading for the mainhouse.

As he entered, the familiar smell of baking eggs and freshly cooked legumes was already teasing his nose, and Wiz's laid-back 'g'morning' sounded over the sound of sizzling. Prompto leaned his form long against the kitchen door frame, an elbow above his head and most of his weight supported on his arm and shoulder. "Mornin'." A rogue yawn slipped out of the younger, and the farmer gave him an amused look over his shoulder. At that, the blond was quick to snap his mouth shut, mulling the rest of it over in his mouth, and cleared his throat before straightening himself up again. "How's the breakfast comin' along? You need anythin'?"

"I'm good, I think. Jus' waitin' for the bread rolls to bake."

"Uhm, so, do you think I have time for a quick shower before then?"

"Sure, go ahead. It's gonna be at least a quarter still," Wiz glanced over his shoulder but soon returned to the beans tanning on the frying pan.

"Alright, thanks. Be back in a jiffy then." With a flick of his wrist, Prompto was heading up the stairs.

He had moved into the mainhouse a couple months after the incident at Caem. Somehow, the hollowness of the trailer had begun to rub him wrong. What he had paid no heed to before, the empty creaks of the metal, the paper-thin walls of his solitude, they had become unnerving to him. Having other people around helped to that, and Wiz had offered him more than a few times already…so, Prompto had asked if the offer was still up. And given, the farmer had looked at him with honest-to-god surprise, but as he had gotten over it, the delight he took in the younger man's request was more than enough to assure Prompto that he was doing the right thing.

His room was in the back, the last door to the right. His window gave a view over the valley below, and if he wanted to, he could quite easily climb out his window and sling himself onto the nearby tree branch to climb down. The dominant colors of his interior were mint greens and white, and despite not being exactly his pick, he found it cozy and relaxing enough nonetheless. Beat the trailer six to nothing, and Prompto had given himself a mental smack more than once for not accepting the invite sooner. He wouldn't give himself a hard time over it, though, for Prompto realized that what he had needed and longed for back then, it had differed significantly from what he desired now. Perhaps he had needed to take that plunge, to better appreciate what he had. He had given it a lot of thought over the past year, and perhaps that was just the kind of person he was. The way for him to change himself was through the deep end. Through a struggle. But then again, after going through a hellfire, there was no going back to the old for him. When something came over him so drastically, ultimately, when the dust eventually settled again, something was different and it would remain so for good.

Languidly, he pulled the shirt over his head and stripped out of his pants and underwear. Wrapping a towel around himself, Prompto quickly crossed the aisle to the bathroom. Groaning quietly at the pleasurable warmth of the water, he let the water just soak him for a moment before he even reached for the shampoo. He knew better than to take too long, though; he had learned the first time that the boiler kept enough hot water for maybe ten minutes at a time, and he wasn't willing to go through the mistake of letting it run out again. The first time he had ended up finishing washing his hair under a freezing fall was one time too many.

Wiz's muffled voice came from downstairs as he was already drying himself up, and although not catching any of that, he had a pretty good hunch of what was being said. "I'll be right there!" he yelled back, and the mess of a grunted affirmation that could have been words was an answer enough. Quickly skipping back into his room to dress, the distant tune of Wiz singing quietly to himself reached him for a couple of seconds before he door was shut behind him, closing the sound out again; not noticing the small upward tug on the edges of his lips, Prompto wasted no time in pulling out a new shirt and loosely fitting long-sleeved pants. A small moan of frustration left him at a glance into the mirror as he noted the unruly state of his hair, but the calls from downstairs sounded again, and begrudgingly, Prompto surrendered to letting it look like a harvested hayfield for now, and with one more vain gruff of irritation, headed out of his door.

Wiz had already set the table when he entered and was buttering a half of a fresh roll. "Dig in, boyo," he offered him a self-satisfied grin, one the other returned almost eagerly.

"With pleasure," he announced. "Smells great, pops!" Wiz chuckled into his beard good-naturedly.

"Well, blimey. 'Bout time ya got some meat over all tha' bone ya got there, kid," he teased, the blond's playful 'oi' only amusing him more. As the younger went back to his breakfast, though, the farmer was left to watch him, a bit lost in thought. As the blond took a generous bite of his bread, his attention now on his phone as he scrolled through something Wiz couldn't see from the other side of the table, oblivious to his stare…Wiz couldn't help yet another small smile spreading over his face. Over the time the kid had stayed with him, helped him get this place back onto its feet again, Wiz had become to cherish his company. Prompto was a kind and hardworking lad, but those aspects didn't begin to justify why the kid mattered to him so much. He had noted the change in Prompto's mood over the past year or so. He had become more dedicated, more focused. He seemed happier. And the joy it brought to Wiz to see that change in him every day, that feeling had a name. A name with four letters on it.

The way he loved Prompto, the kid might as well have been one of his own.

The blond must have finally realized he was being stared at, for the sky eyes flicked up to the older, a bit surprised and questioning. "What?"

"Nothing. Just…happy to see you like it," the older man slipped the white lie through his teeth, his eyes still warm, and perhaps that was the reason Prompto swallowed the answer without a second thought.

"Uh, yeah…" Not sure how to go from there, the blond decided to change the topic. "Hey, uh, I was gonna take Boko out for a spin after. You mind?"

"Not at all, kid. I was gonna train the young ones a little today, so take as long as ya want," he spread his hands in a have-it-your-way gesture and shook his head a little.

Prompto cracked a grin, his eyes lighting up a little. "Thanks. You need anythin' before we go?"

"I think I'm good. Ya go on ahead." He made a small shooing gesture; to Prompto, that translated into 'do what you want'. Nodding, he finished the last of his bread, and gulped down the remainder of his coffee.

"Alright. Thanks for the meal," Prompto was already getting up and collecting his dishes. "See ya later!"

"Safe ways, kid!" was the last he heard before the front door closed behind him as Prompto was already out.

(Please have the song starting here. VHB – War Is Over)

Taking long, leaping steps back to the stables, Prompto was fighting with his hair. Stubbornly, it kept slipping over his eyes, no matter what he tried, and he let out a grunt as he pushed it aside again. Darn it, he swore, he'd have it shaved off one of these days…! With one more less than satisfying attempt at trying to calm his mane, the young man stroked it backwards and to the side, anything to keep it from getting in the way all the time, and climbed into the bird pen.

"Boo-koo-oh!" A couple birds, including the one he called for, turned their attention to the human, and took steps closer, cawing softly to the man. Beaks were rubbed against his shoulder as they reached him, the birds flocking around him a little, waiting to be petted. Breaking into laughter, Prompto humored the others for a moment, but soon walked the male farther away from the group before grabbing a bridle where it was hung over the rail. He talked to the bird in a quiet voice to keep him calm as he set the gear, although Boko never objected to any of the handling. He stood tranquilly, almost proudly, and let the human buzzle around him. The animal only stepped in place a little impatiently when the blond set the saddle on him and went to adjust the straps. All done, Prompto petted him onto his neck again, the bird letting out a low sound almost like purring, and pecked at the human's feathers a little. "He-hey!" Prompto let out under a laughter. "Bo-haha-Bo-ko! Stop it! Haha. Sta-aph!" he almost giggled as he tried to push away from the bird nibbling at his hair, the soft sway tickling his ear and neck. "Easy, boy. Haha, easy…" Boko let out a small yelp, obviously pleased with himself, as it drew back, looking at the blond as if it was asking, 'what were they waiting for?' Still chuckling, the blond didn't have the heart (nor the patience, for that matter) to let either of them wait any longer. He walked the bird out of the pen, and in one graceful motion, jumped onto the saddle.

"Yaah!" Kicking his legs against the leathery sides of the saddle, the blond treasured the electrifying feeling beneath him when the bird sprung forward. He would never get tired of it.

The foresty slopes of the valley hill swam by as they ran along the tall trees. On occasion, Prompto's attention piqued at the more or less distant cries of a beast prowling closer than the young man would have preferred, but they never came within a seeing distance from any, and silently the blond thanked his lucky stars. He hadn't taken a weapon - a foolish, rookie mistake, now that he thought about it - but he hadn't been set off for a hunt. Boko was fast enough to outrun most of the dangers lurking in the forest, given that they wouldn't run into a behemoth or get trapped, so Prompto hadn't been too worried about that. Nevertheless, every time the barks sounded, he tensed, alert and ready to make a run for it at a moment's notice.

Prompto guided them along the slope of the bowl. There was a place he was rather fond of, he came here quite often, and although it hadn't been his intention this time, somehow he found himself heading towards that direction again, unconsciously, by the heart's own volition. As he came to a clearing among the trees, natural, although it made no sense to him as for why it was there, Prompto stopped Boko, the bird skipping on the spot a little, and the blond shushed him gently as he petted the feathery neck. Then, the sky gaze was turned to look over the view.

The hill gave a view down the entire bowl valley. Below him, evergreen trees lined the hillside, but past them, Prompto saw the grand prairies surrounding the meteor crater, stretching out as an old-yellow mat as far as the eye could see. Massive lines of rock striped the land and rose above it in majestic arcs splayed over the land like divine protectors. The blond's lips cracked a one-sided toothy grin as he looked at it. Boko was dancing restless beneath him, eager to go already and asking, 'what was the human waiting for, why weren't they going already?!' Again, the man held him back, talking to the animal in a calm voice to get him to relax. As he was here now, Prompto felt oddly content just gazing over the land. This land that they had finally got back after so long. It had taken a long time, but the humanity had pulled through. The war was over. Livelihood had returned to where it had been scarce and even inhabitable; people had regained their sense of dignity, after teetering at the brink of a calamity. It was over! There was finally peace. Peace for the people to live in safety. His gaze trailed higher, to the cloud-speckled blue above, and his grin remained, but it narrowed into one of gratitude and longing. "Thanks, Noct," he whispered to the skies. "For everything. It's alright now. It's over. Thanks…thanks for being there for me. All of us, really." He held a small pause before adding, with a cheeky wink at the unseeing viewer, "Let's catch up again some time."

Beneath him, Boko let out a stifled yip and stepped on the spot anxiously; Prompto, amused by the bird's antics, couldn't help a stifled laughter. "Alright, already, boy. We're going, we're going." With one last look upwards, the blond flicked a lazy wrist upwards. "See ya later, Noct. Take care." Then, he turned back to the bird. "Let's go. Yip-yip!" It was more the loosening of the reins than the light kick of his legs, but Boko was dashing in roughly half a heartbeat, the light cargo on his back almost caught off guard by the intensity of the motion.

As they flew through the thickening growth again, a bubbling sensation grew in the blond's chest. It was at moments like these that he felt so much alive! The energy stemming from his mount seeped into him as well, adrenaline rushing through his system at almost dizzying pressure, the unbearable sense of freedom engulfing him, and for a moment Prompto felt invincible…! He lost control of his mouth as his excitement spilled out of him in wild cries of exhilaration as they ran, ran, ran, endlessly, so incredibly powerful and unstoppable and free…! He loved this. He loved the notion that he was offered the chance. He wasn't fooling himself by pretending it had always been like this, though; Prompto remembered the time he had been blind. Blind to all that he had and had focused solely on what he had lost. But as the blood thumped in his ears again, that intoxicating rush setting him ablaze from the inside…the blond became more and more sure that it was in the past. He had gone through hell, but it was over. The war, the horror, it was all over. He had lost something, and so had everyone else, but he had gained something new in return. The war was over, but this new life…Prompto was only getting started living.

* * *

_I'll make my eyes believe it_   
_Make them want to see a_   
_World where the war is over_

_Help myself to feel it_   
_Tell my soul to hear a_   
_Whisper that I am free_

_I'll make my heart embrace it_   
_Open it to face a_   
_World where the war is over_

_Tell my mind to taste it_   
_Spend my life to chase a_   
_Freedom and not a dream_

_War is over_

* * *

TOOL – THE END


End file.
